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FRANCES  A.  YATES 


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FATHER  LACOMBE 

THE  BLACK-ROBE  VOYAGEUR 


. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016  with  funding  from 
Getty  Research  Institute 


https://archive.org/details/fatherlacombebla00hugh_0 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


The  Black-Robe  Voyageur 


BY 

KATHERINE  HUGHES 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 


1911 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 
Nkw  Yokk 

All  Rights  Reserved 


Pnblished  October,  1911 


TO 

THE  FAITH  AND  GRIT 
OF  THE  UNWRITTEN  HEROES 
IN  THE  OLD  GUARD  OF  OBLATES 
IN  WESTERN  CANADA 


<e  Send  me  men  girt  for  the  combat. 

Men  who  are  grit  to  the  core.  . . . 

Send  me  the  best  of  your  breeding. 

Lend  me  your  chosen  ones; 

Them  will  I take  to  my  bosom. 

Them  will  I call  my  sons.  . . . 

And  I will  not  be  won  by  weaklings, 
Subtile,  suave  and  mild. 

But  by  men  with  the  hearts  of  Vikings, 
And  the  simple  faith  of  a child/* 


Service . 


PREFACE 


Near  the  Lake  of  the  Woods  at  sunrise  one  morn- 
ing in  1882  I saw  a priest  standing  on  a flat  rock,  his 
crucifix  in  his  right  hand  and  his  broad  hat  in  the 
other,  silhouetted  against  the  rising  sun,  which  made 
a golden  halo  about  him,  talking  to  a group  of  In- 
dians— men,  women  and  pappooses — who  were  listen- 
ing with  reverent  attention.  It  was  a scene  never 
to  be  forgotten,  and  the  noble  and  saintly  countenance 
of  the  priest  brought  it  to  me  that  this  must  be  Father 
Lacombe  of  whom  I had  heard  so  much;  and  it  was. 

My  acquaintance  with  him,  begun  that  morning, 
has  been  full  of  charm  to  me,  and  my  only  regret  is 
that  in  these  later  years  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him 
has  come  at  lengthening  intervals.  His  life,  devoted 
and  self-sacrificing,  has  been  like  peaceful  moonlight 
— commonplace  to  some,  but  to  others  full  of  quiet 
splendour,  serenity,  mystery  and  of  much  more  for 
which  there  are  no  words. 

We  who  know  him  love  him  because  of  his  goodness 
and  we  feel  that  he  is  great;  but  we  may  not  say  he 
is  great  because  of  this  or  of  that.  His  life  has  been 
hidden  from  the  world  in  far-away  Indian  encamp- 
ments and  it  is  there  we  must  look  for  accounts  of  his 
good  works  and  great  deeds. 

The  noble  and  elevating  example  of  devotion  and 

vii 


Till 


PREFACE 


self-sacrifice  that  has  been  given  us  by  Father  La- 
combe  in  his  more  than  sixty  years  of  work  among  the 
Indians  of  Western  Canada  should  not  be  lost,  for 
he  would  be  stony-hearted  indeed  who  would  not  be 
softened  and  humanized  by  such  an  example,  which 
must  bring  even  to  the  irreligious  a feeling  of  pro- 
found respect  for  the  faith  which  inspired  and  sus- 
tained this  good  man. 

It  is  fortunate,  therefore,  that  Miss  Hughes  who 
is  so  well  fitted  in  every  way  and  especially  by  her 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  country  in  which  Father 
Lacombe  has  laboured  so  long  and  with  the  conditions 
surrounding  him,  should  have  undertaken  a record 
of  his  life,  with  a reverent  love  of  her  subject  to  guide 
her  pen;  and  I regard  it  as  a very  great  honour  that 
she  has  asked  me  to  write  a Preface  for  her  book. 

W.  C.  Van  Horne. 


Montreal,  21st  April,  1910. 


FOREWORD 


Father  Lacombe’s  peculiarly  vivid  intellect — 
which  even  yet  seizes  upon  every  detail  in  events 
and  people  that  touch  on  his  life — holds  the  Past 
as  in  a mirror.  To  avail  myself  of  this  knowledge 
in  securing  quite  accurate  pictures  of  early  West- 
ern periods  and  incidents  X have  for  some  years 
submitted  this  venerable  man  month  after  month 
to  what  he  laughingly  termed  “ inquisitions.” 

Some  others  of  the  few  real  Old-Timers  remain- 
ing have  likewise  submitted  to  my  “ inquisitions,” 
and  generously  contributed  to  my  knowledge  of 
details.  Their  names  occur  in  the  narrative ; I 
desire  to  thank  them  here  for  their  valuable 
assistance. 

I would  also  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  to 
my  friends — Bishop  Legal,  who  opened  to  me  the 
Archives  of  St.  Albert  and  his  letters  from  Father 
Lacombe,  the  Hon.  Alexander  Rutherford,  who 
gave  me  access  to  his  library  of  rare  Canadiana,  and 
others. 


K.  H. 


CONTENTS 


PART  ONE 

I 

IN  OLD  QUEBEC 
1839-1849 

] 

Chasse-Galerie — Saint-Sulpice — The  Home  Feast  of  the 
New  Year — Childhood — Remote  Ancestor  an  O jibway 
Chief — L’ Assumption  College — Bishop’s  Palace,  Mon- 
treal— Rev.  Georges  Belcourt— -Call  of  Western  Mis- 
sions^— Ordination 


II 

THE  WEST  BECKONS 
1849 

Dramatic  Scene  in  Palace  Chapel — Departure  from  Lachine 
— Bishop  Loras  and  Dubuque — A Missouri  Flat-boat- 
One  Month  at  St.  Paul — Father  Ravoux — A Coffin-bed 
— By  Carts  to  Pembina — Saulteux  Indians  Pillage 
Travellers  ....  . . . . 


Ill 

HIS  WANDERJAHR  AT  PEMBINA 
1849-1850 

Bishop  Provencher  and  Red  River — Summer  on  the  Plains 
with  Metis — The  Wild  Glory  of  the  Buffalo  Hunt — The 
Manna  of  the  Prairies — Triumphal  Procession  of  the 
Primitive  Man 


CONTENTS 


xii 

IV 

ON  TO  THE  SASKATCHEWAN 

1850-1852 

PAGE 

Returns  to  Montreal — Meets  Bishop  Tache — Volunteers  for 
Western  Missions — The  Red  River  in  Flood — Replaces 
Father  Thibault  at  Fort  Edmonton — Voyage  up  Sas- 
katchewan in  York  Boats— -Hardships  of  “Tracking 
Crew’7 — Chief  Factor  John  Rowand- — Welcome  to  Old 
Fort  Edmonton  lmi  . . ...  ...  ...  w ...  . 34 


V 

FORT  EDMONTON  IN  ROWAND’S  DAY 
1852-1853 

Headquarters  of  Hudson’s  Bay  Company  in  Far  West — 
Primitive  Stronghold — Rowand’s  Folly — Lac  la  Biche — 
Studies  Cree  with  Governor  Simpson’s  Piper — The 
Bully  Paulet  Paul — Defies  His  Friend  Rowand,  the 
Napoleon  of  the  Saskatchewan — The  Company’s  As- 
sistance to  Pioneer  Missionaries 46 


VI 

EXPLORING  A NEW  FIELD 
1853-1857 

Blackfeet  Trading  at  Fort  Edmonton — When  Rum  was  Ex- 
changed for  Peltry — Lac  Ste.  Anne — Tache’s  First 
Pastoral  Visit — Father  Lacombe  Journeys  to  Peace 
River,  500  Miles  Distant — Novitiate — Trip  to  Jasper 
House — Caught  by  Forest  Fire — Into  the  Country  of 
Warlike  Blackfeet — Three  Mangled  Bodies  5$ 


CONTENTS  aiii 

VII 

PALLISER  AND  SOUTHESK 
1857-1861 

PAGE 

First  Mission  to  the  Blackfeet — Distress  in  Epidemic — Col- 
ony at  Lake  Grows — Palliser  Expedition — Dr.  Hector 
and  Invalid  Frain — The  fameux  Alexis  and  Dog-train 
— Lord  Southesk’s  Tribute  to  Father  Lacombe — An  Un- 
expected Visit  and  Gladness  in  the  Forest — Blackfeet 
want  Father  Lacombe  as  their  Praying-Man  7Q 


VIII 

AN  ORGANIZING  GENIUS  AT  PLAY 
1861-1862 

Tache  Selects  Site  of  St.  Albert — Father  Lacombe  Estab- 
lishes Colony — The  Golden  Age — Builds  First  Bridge 
West  of  Red  River — Initiates  Transport  of  Freight 
Across  Prairies  in  Red  River  Carts — Establishes  First 
School  West  of  Red  River — Starvation  on  Plains — 
Plenty  in  Colony— Father  Lacombe  Builds  a Grist- 
mill   82 


IX 

VISITS  FROM  THE  OUTSIDE  WORLD 
1862-1865 

Governor  Dallas  Visits  St.  Albert — Angered  at  Bridge — 
Lord  Milton  and  Cheadle  Arrive — Out  to  the  Plains — 
Encounter  with  Medicine-Man,  White  Eagle — Murder 
of  Sarcee  by  Little  Pine — War-Party  of  Blackfeet 
Threaten  Fort  Edmonton — Dr.  Rae  Visits  Father  La- 
combe— Gaspard  Lacombe — American  Miners  Appear 
on  Saskatchewan — Visit  of  Father  Vanderburglie  w t.,  92 


CONTENTS 


ady 

X 

A CRUSADER  OF  THE  PLAINS 

1865 

PAGE 

Father  Lacombe  Assigned  to  Free-Lance  Mission  on  Plains 
— Journeys  by  Dog-Train  with  Alexis — Head-Chief 
Sweet-Grass — Establishment  of  St.  Paul  des  Cris — A 
New  Moses  in  a Camp  of  Israel — Hunting  Buffalo, 
and  Souls .107 


XI 

BATTLE  BETWEEN  BLACKFEET  AND  CREES 

1865 

Midnight  Attack  of  Crees  on  Band  of  Chief  Natous — Father 
Lacombe  in  Tent  of  Natous — Amid  Clamour  of  Battle 
He  Calls  on  Crees  to  Withdraw — Crowfoot  to  the  Res- 
cue— Father  Lacombe  Advances  Alone  Upon  Firing- 
Line — Struck  by  Bullet — Richard  Hardisty’s  Welcome 
to  Rocky  Mountain  House .116 

XII 

COURSING  THE  WIDE  PLAINS 
1865-1867 

Christmas  at  Fort  Edmonton — The  Mess-Room  of  the 
Gentlemen  Adventurers — Peace  to  Men  of  Good-Will — 
Jimmy-from-Cork — Gibbons  and  Livingstone,  Miners— 
Father  Lacombe  Rescues  Abandoned  Squaw — Hard 
Trip  to  Fort  Carlton— Bishop  Grandin  . . . . .124 

XIII 

A HUNTING  GROUND  FOR  SOULS 
1867-1868 

On  to  St.  Boniface — The  Company  Brings  in  Its  First  Bri- 
gade of  Carts — Sarcee  Maiden  Captive — The  House- 
Tent — Off  to  the  Plains — Band  of  Starving  Indians  ,.  136 


CONTENTS 


xv 


XIV 

SOWING  IN  TEARS 
1868 

PAGE 

Starving  on  the  Winter  Plains — Bouillon  of  Moccasins  and 
Sinews — Carcass  of  Dying  Buffalo — Camp  of  Chief 
Sweet-Grass — The  Innocent  Prodigals  Welcomed  to  the 
Camp-Fires — Midnight-Mass  on  the  Plains — Tribute 
of  Sweet-Grass  to  the  Pontiff 146 


XV 

IN  PARTIBUS  INFIDELIUM 

1868- 1869 

Wins  Sarcees  by  Coup  d’Etat — On  the  Plains  with  Crees — 
Prevents  Blackfoot  Attack — Welcomes  Bishop  Grandin 
— Quaint  Notes  of  Episcopal  Surroundings  in  partibus 
infidelium — A Successful  Surgical  Operation  , . .157 

XVI 

ACROSS  THE  BORDER 

1869- 1870 

Possibilities  of  Southern  Transportation— Father  Lacombe 
Departs  for  St.  Louis — -Fort  Benton — Hunting  Buffalo 
from  Deck  of  Flat-boat — A Hurried  Visit  to  Canada — 
Return  West  With  Sister— A Hard  Winter  on  the 
Plains — Blackfeet  March  on  Fort  Edmonton  . . . 168 


XVII 

RAVAGES  OF  SMALLPOX 
1870 

Fort  Edmonton  in  State  of  Defence — Narrow  Escape  of 
Father  Lacombe — Journey  to  Fort  Dunvegan  on  the 
Peace — Ravages  of  Smallpox — Battles  with  the  Disease 
on  the  Plains — A Year  of  Sad  Memories  . . . .178 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


XVIII 

“I  will  tell  you  when  my  time  has  come!” 

1870-1871 

PAGE 

Many  Pagans  Converted — Head-Chief  Sweet-Grass  and  His 
Past — Winter  at  Rocky  Mountain  House — Compiles 
Two  Books  in  Cree — Author  of  Great  Lone  Land — 
Another  Summer  on  the  Plains — The  Marriage  of  Wil- 
liam-Quaint Ante-nuptial  Declaration  . . . . .187 


XIX 

FRESH  MARCHING  ORDERS 

1871-1872 

With  the  Blackfeet — A New  Mission  Along  the  Bow — In- 
vents an  Illustrated  Catechism — The  Beginning  of  the 
End — Rumours  of  a Transcontinental  Railway — Neces- 
sity of  Indian  Schools — Father  Lacombe  Receives  Fresh 
Marching-Orders— Finds  Winnipeg  Rising  Out  of  Fort 
Garry — A New  Life  Beckons  201 


PART  TWO 

i 

THE  PLAINSMAN  ABROAD 

1872-1873 

Archbishop  Tascherau — Father  Lacombe  Learns  the  Hard 
Metier  of  a Beggar — Government  Grant  to  Cree  Dic- 
tionary— Sails  for  Europe — Ploughing  London — Arch- 
bishop Manning — Experiences  in  Paris — Louis  Veuillot 
— Tours  France  and  Germany — Homesick  for  the 
Plains 21S 


CONTENTS 


xvn 


II 

OTTAWA  POLITICS  AND  RED  RIVER 
COLONIZING 

1873-1876 

PAGE 

Archbishop  Tache  and  Sir  John  Macdonald — The  Trouble- 
some Amnesty — Sir  Aime  Dorion  Appeals  to  Father 
Lacombe — St.  Mary’s,  Winnipeg — Years  of  Coloniza- 
tion— Ungrateful  Nature  of  the  Work — James  J.  Hill 
— Donald  Smith — W.  F.  Luxton — Execution  of  the 
Metis  Angus 227 


III 

THE  PLAINS  INDIANS  ARE  CORALLED 
1876-1880 

Plains  Indians  are  Brought  Into  Treaty  Relations — North- 
West  Mounted  Police — Buffalo  Disappear — Famine 
Stalks  over  Plains — Father  Lacombe  Journeys  to  Rome 
— Echo  of  the  Fifties — The  Canadian  Pacific  Ap- 
proaches the  West — Father  Lacombe  Appointed  Chap- 
lain to  Construction  Camps  . . 241 


IV 

CHAPLAIN  ON  FIRST  TRANSCONTINENTAL 
1880-1882 

A Tourney  with  Disorder — Deplorable  Conditions  of  Camps 
— Visit  of  Marquis  of  Lome — Father  Lacombe  Longs 
for  Indian  Missions — Released  . ..  . 251 


V 

THE  VANISHING  WILDERNESS 
1882-1883 


Twelve  Hundred  Miles  in  a Buckboard — Pioneers  in  Prairie- 
Schooners  and  Red  River  Carts — Old  Fort  Edmonton 


XV111 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Slipped  Into  the  Past — Returning  to  Wilderness,  Finds 
It  a Frontier — Mounted  Police  Posts — Letter  from  His 
Mother  261 


VI 

CANADIAN  PACIFIC  MARKS  EPOCH 
1883 

The  Canadian  Pacific  Invades  the  Far  West— Father  Lacombe 
Quiets  Blackfeet — The  Frontier  Town  of  Calgary — 
First  Train  to  the  Bow — Luncheon  in  the  President’s 
Car — Father  Lacombe  President  of  the  C.  P.  R.  for 
One  Hour — Ex-officio  Arbiter  in  Horse-thefts — The 
New  Order 272 


VII 

FOUNDATION  OF  INDIAN  SCHOOLS 
1883—1884 

A Picturesque  Western  Invasion — Growth  of  Calgary — Plan 
of  Indian  Industrial  Schools — Sir  John’s  Views — 
“Learning  and  Piety  Are  not  All-sufficient” — Father 
Lacombe  Establishes  Dunbow  School — Remarkable 
Progress  in  His  Mission  Field 282 


VIII 

METIS  REBELLION  OF  1885 
1885 

Misunderstandings  Between  Government  and  Western  Na- 
tives— A Government’s  Fatuity — Half-breeds’  Impa- 
tience— Riel  Brought  Back — To  Arms! — Father  La- 
combe Aids  in  Quieting  Blackfeet- — Visit  to  Northern 
Crees — The  Watchword,  “Lacombe” 292 


CONTENTS  xix 

IX 

TOURS  THE  EAST  WITH  CROWFOOT 
1885—1888 

PAGE 

Pleads  for  Release  of  Indian  Warriors — Tours  East  with 
Blackfoot  Chief s,  as  Guests  of  Government — Indians 
Impressed  with  Military  Force — Crowfoot’s  Chivalry — 

Trip  to  Vancouver — Murder  of  Archbishop  Seghers — 
Campaign  of  Begging  in  East — Opposition  to  Metis 
Colony  308 


X 

A NEW  WEST  EMERGES 
1882-1892 

The  “chateau”  at  Lethbridge — First  Council  of  Western 
Catholic  Clergy — Visit  of  Lord  Stanley — Courtesy  of 
Van  Horne — Death  of  Crowfoot — Trip  to  Sechelt — 
Meets  the  Aberdeens — Demoralization  of  Metis — Hos- 
pital for  Indians  . . . . . . ...  . 319 


XI 

MANITOBA  SCHOOL  QUESTION  LOOMS  UP 
1892-1894 

Bishops  from  the  West — Indian  Passion  Play — Burning  His 
Ships — Father  Lacombe  as  Lieutenant  of  Archbishop 
Tache — Brief  Respite  in  Hermitage — The  Joys  of  the 
Open  Road  .............  888 


XII 

KEEPING  STEP  WITH  PROGRESS 
1894-1896 

School  Question  Lingers — Father  Lacombe  Secures  Co- 
operations of  Hierarchy — Tour  with  Rev.  Father  Soul- 


XX 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

lier — Death  of  Archbishop  Tache — Assigned  to  Edmon- 
ton— Plans  a New  Work  to  Aid  Metis — Secures  Bridge 
Over  Saskatchewan  for  City  of  Edmonton  ...  . l#(  . 345 


XIII 

SCHOOL  QUESTION  OVERTHROWS 
GOVERNMENT 

1894-1896 

Thrust  Into  Political  Arena — Letter  to  Wilfrid  Laurier — In- 
tense Interest  in  Campaign  Which  Rouses  Dominion — 
Remedial  Bill  Rejected — General  Elections — Crushing 
Defeat  of  Government  . . . 359 


XIV 

OPENING  UP  OF  NORTH  COUNTRY 
1896-1899 

Returns  to  South — Bishop  Legal— -Illness  and  Financial 
Cares — Gift  from  Queen  Victoria — Abbe  de  Bie — Klon- 
dyke  Rush  Opens  Up  North — Treaty  Commissioners 
for  North  Appointed — Father  Lacombe  Adviser — 
Unique  Celebration  of  Jubilee  in  Forest 372 


XV 

DATUR-OMNIBUS 

1899-1900 

Historical  Fort  Chipewyan — Disconsolate  Gold-seekers 
Homeward  Bound — Fort  McMurray — Murder  of 

Witigo — Golden  Jubilee  at  St.  Albert — Bishop  Gran- 
din’s  Toast — Why  Father  Lacombe  Was  Never  Made 
a Bishop — To  Europe  in  Interest  of  Ruthenians  . . 387 


CONTENTS 


xxi 


XVI 

AT  THE  AUSTRIAN  COURT 
1900-1902 

PAGE 

Audience  with  Emperor  Francis  Joseph — The  Oblate’s  Only 
Decoration — Renews  Friendships  in  London — Poverty 
of  Diocese — A Fresh  Campaign  of  Begging  in  the  East  402 

XVII 

RETIREMENT  TO  HERMITAGE 
1902-1904 

Death  of  Bishop  Grandin — A Financial  Success — One  of  the 
Old  Guard — Lord  Mountstephen’s  Generosity — Retires 
to  Hermitage — Disaster  at  Frank — To  the  East  with 
Hands  Outstretched  Again  . . . ..  m . t.;  .417 

XVIII 

A HERMIT  WHO  WOULD  NOT  STAY  AT  HOME 
1904-1908 

Journey  to  Rome  and  the  Holy  Land — “Le  vieux  Papa”  as- 
tonishes Pilgrims — Rumoured  Passing  to  Greek  Rite — 
Meeting  of  Pius  X and  Father  Lacombe — “M’sieu 
I’Empereur” — Loss  of  Noted  Cross — Destruction  of  Col- 
ony School — New  Plan  for  Memoirs  .....  429 


XIX 

THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS 

1 908-1 9— 

Abandonment  of  Metis  Colony — Home  for  Destitute — In- 
dian School  System — First  Catholic  Congress  in  New 
World — Political  Views  of  Father  Lacombe — Attends 
First  Plenary  Council — Diamond  Jubilee — Gaspard  La- 
combe— Meets  Strathcona  Again — Opening  of  Lacombe 
Home 442 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Father  Lacombe Frontispiece 

PACING  PAGE 

Winnipeg  in  1870  , 20 

First  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul 20 

Plan  of  Fort  Edmonton  in  the  Sixties  . . . . . 48 

Making  a Blackfoot  brave  the  ordeal 98 

Gold  washing  by  miners  on  Saskatchewan  ....  128 

Fort  Edmonton,  1877  180 


Map  showing  the  field  of  Father  Lacombe’s  activities  . 193 

Father  Lacombe  among  the  Indians  at  Rat  Portage  . 218 

An  Indian  Sun  Dance,  1877  240 

Old  Fort  Whoop-up,  1874.  Near  Lethbridge,  Alta  . 260 

“.  . . Even  here  were  evidences  of  the  white  man’s  in- 


vasion 99  260 

Interior  of  Fort  Pitt,  just  before  the  rebellion  of 

1885  294 

Group  inside  Fort  Edmonton  in  the  Eighties  . . . 320 

The  blending  of  the  old  and  new  at  Edmonton  . . . 350 

Klondykers  at  Edmonton  en  route  to  the  Yukon  . . 376 

The  site  of  the  Hermitage  at  Pincher  Creek  . . . 406 

Lord  Strathcona  and  Father  Lacombe 452 

Father  Lacombe  . . . 424 


PART  I 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


THE  ENTRANCE 

“All  the  world’s  a stage.  . . . 

And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 

His  Acts  being  seven  Ages.” 

The  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  draw- 
ing to  a close:  Canada  was  in  the  throes  of  national 
birth.  Montreal — having  looked  on  at  its  Parlia- 
ment Buildings  destroyed  by  fire,  and  authority’s 
symbol,  the  Mace,  tossed  about  on  the  shoulders  of  a 
mob — lay  in  the  grim  shadow  of  a cholera  epidemic. 

Meanwhile — out  over  the  beckoning  trails  of  the 
green  West  a stripling  of  twenty  was  making  his  way 
into  the  wonderland  of  the  voyageurs — the  mysteri- 
ous and  little-known  Pays  d'en  Haut.  He  brought 
with  him  little  more  than  the  staff  and  scrip  of  the 
medieval  pilgrim — this  Monias , but  he  was  of  the  type 
that  trader  and  dusky  trapper  alike  welcomed. 

They  found  him  at  first  moulded  in  the  courtliness 
and  restraint  of  manner  characteristic  of  the  men  who 
tutored  him  in  the  quiet  old  Palace  at  Montreal,  but 
there  soon  sprang  up  in  him  what  the  eagle-eyes  of 
the  boy  had  always  denoted — a fearlessness,  a force 
and  a primitive  dignity  that  more  than  matched  the 
best  material  of  the  strong  new  country  before  him. 

1 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1839 


It  is  sixty  years  since  then — at  this  time  of  writing 
— and  through  all  that  formative  period  of  the  West 
the  figure  of  this  stripling — rounding  into  maturity, 
or  bending  to  a venerable  old  age — stands  silhouetted, 
in  imperious  lines  or  again  with  tender  charm,  against 
the  pages  of  western  history. 

At  the  outset  he  appears  as  a knight-errant  on 
the  western  Plains — a picturesque  figure  with  the 
Red  Cross  of  his  flag  floating  above  him,  here,  there 
and  everywhere  along  the  prairies  between  the  Red 
River  and  the  Mountains  of  the  Setting  Sun  . . . 

now  sharing  the  tepees  of  the  nomad  tribes;  now 
making  a stand  at  some  mission-place — with  axe  and 
plough  guiding  the  Metis  and  Indian  to  the  ways  of 
the  white  man  . . . leading  them  out  from  the 

blanket  and  tepee  to  the  school  and  homestead. 

As  time  passes,  on  some  of  his  endless  journeyings 
to  and  fro  across  the  Continent  he  appears  on  the 
plains  again — a peaceful  Clovis  leading  his  country- 
men from  a land  outgrown  to  new  fields  of  promise. 
And  when  a young  civilization  of  many  needs,  spirit- 
ual and  material,  emerges  from  the  prairies — the 
knight-errant  of  Western  priesthood  is  found  again 
and  again  measuring  the  gray  corridors  of  Canada’s 
Parliament  Buildings  or  suppliant  for  others  in  the 
cold  magnificence  of  European  courts. 

• ••••••• 

Then  fell  the  evening  of  Life.  The  vigorous  form 
grew  bent  and  the  erstwhile  shoulders  narrowed. 

. . . Now  there  remains  in  his  Hermitage  among 


18S9 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


3 


the  foothills  an  old  Christian  medicine-man  with  only 
the  warmth  and  light  of  his  wonderful  eyes  undimmed 
by  Time:  relit  perhaps  with  the  radiance  of  the  light 
that  shines  across  the  Great  Divide. 


I 

The  character  of  the  race  from  which  Albert  La- 
combe  sprang  is  most  subtly  revealed  in  Quebec’s  old 
legend  of  the  Chasse-Galerie. 

It  is  an  exquisite  mosaic  of  racial  and  domestic 
feeling,  instinct  with  the  warmth  and  daring  and  in- 
souciance of  the  Canadien  habitant — misty  with  the 
pathos  of  the  Canadien  errant . 

It  grew  up  imperceptibly  in  the  days  of  the  Old 
Regime,  when  the  reckless  voyageurs  pushed  farther 
and  farther  west  in  the  wake  of  Le  Verandrye’s  canoe, 
and  the  hearts  of  their  womenfolk  followed  after. 

It  mirrored  the  dare-devil  hearts  of  the  coureurs  de 
bois  drawn  home  on  New  Year’s  Eve  from  far-off 
Athabasca  and  Saskatchewan  to  the  glowing  hearths 
of  their  kinsfolk  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 

On  that  one  night  their  souls  sickened  of  the  stern, 
coarse  life  in  far-off  trading  posts,  of  stag  dances  in 
the  Bachelors’  Hall  and  the  ungraceful  shuffle  of 
blanketed  squaws.  Their  ghostly  canoes — so  the 
legend  runs — rode  down  the  winter  storm  with  spirit- 
cargoes. 

Their  wraiths,  invading  the  cheery  homes  of  Que- 
bec, embraced  the  old  people  and  stole  kisses  from  the 


4 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1869 


girls  in  the  dances — then,  mon  Dieu f were  whisked 
up  again  into  the  canoes;  and  pallid  with  regrets 
borne  back  to  the  wilderness. 

In  this  legend  of  the  Chasse  Galerie  there  is  em- 
bodied the  spiritual  essence  of  French-Canada  and  its 
people — the  tinge  of  mysticism  that  hints  of  the  poet- 
heart,  the  fine  daring,  the  warm  sympathies,  the  quick 
forgetfulness,  the  love  of  home,  the  joy  of  life.  And 
this  is  the  land  and  these  the  people  that  produced 
Father  Lacombe. 

Whether  or  not  the  Chasse  Galerie  came  home  for 
the  fireside  feast  in  1839,  the  chimes  in  the  gray  tower 
of  Saint  Sulpice  rang  out  a heartening  welcome  to 
the  New  Year.  Twenty  miles  across  the  snow  the 
gay  carillon  was  answered  with  peals  from  the 
churches  of  Montreal;  and  in  the  home  of  Albert 
Lacombe,  worthy  habitant  of  Saint  Sulpice,  there 
was  a glad  confusion. 

The  household  was  making  ready  for  the  ancient 
ceremony  of  paternal  blessing  that  ushers  in  the  New 
Year  in  a French-Canadian  home.  The  father,  con- 
sciously fine  in  his  best  suit  of  homespun  and  his  finest 
linen  woven  by  the  deft  hands  of  his  goodwife,  seated 
himself  in  the  old  fauteuil  that  had  belonged  to  his 
father. 

His  wife — carrying  herself  with  loving  pride 
“like  the  queen  of  the  home,  doing  its  hon- 
ours,” her  son  recalls — stood  near  him,  watching  ten- 
derly the  mobile  trusting  faces  of  their  seven  little 


1839 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


5 


ones  as  they  knelt  about  their  father’s  knees,  resting 
their  baby  hands  on  his  strong  limbs. 

Albert  the  eldest  voiced  prettily,  as  his  mother 
had  taught  him,  their  New  Year’s  wishes  for  their 
father,  closing  with  a request  for  a blessing  upon 
themselves.  Then  suddenly,  prompted  by  his  own 
exceedingly  warm  heart,  he  broke  through  the  usual 
forms  of  ceremony  to  cry  to  his  mother: 

“And,  Maman,  you  know  how  we  love  you!” 

In  the  raftered  kitchen,  whose  brown  wooden  walls 
and  primitive  furnishings  were  mellowed  by  the  early 
morning  firelight  this  vivid  tableau  of  habitant  life 
defined  the  starting-place  of  history  in  the  life  of 
Father  Lacombe,  who  was  born  in  this  “ gentille  pa- 
roisse ” of  St.  Sulpice  on  February  28,  1827. 

Albert  Lacombe  was  a quietly  genial,  industrious 
man  neither  rich  nor  poor,  attached  to  his  home  and 
farmwork,  with  a desire  to  see  his  sons  follow  in  his 
own  footsteps.  He  and  his  wife  had  never  received 
any  adequate  education  as  books  go,  but  they  were 
versed  in  all  the  arts  that  made  up  the  round  of  their 
simple  pleasant  life  in  the  leisurely  parish. 

Albert,  pere , and  Albert,  fils,  each  spring  went  back 
into  a cabin  in  the  maple  woods  and  made  sugar  and 
syrup  to  supply  the  household  for  the  entire  year. 
The  father  enjoyed  his  pipe,  his  jokes  and  tricks — 
for  he  was  full  of  a quaint  humour — his  old  camarades 
and  his  occasional  coup  of  boisson  blanc — the  mint- 
julep  of  the  north.  But  he  was  not  a hunter:  he  did 


6 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1839 


not  even  keep  a gun  in  his  house,  and  during  the 
Papineau  Rising  of  1837  he  remained  unexcited, 
placidly  loyal. 

Like  the  majority  of  the  Quebec  habitants  he  drew 
an  exceeding  delight  from  his  pipe  and  home-grown 
tobacco ; yet  each  year  before  midnight  of  Mardi  Gras, 
the  eve  of  Lent,  he  would  place  his  pipe  with  all  the 
solemnity  of  a rite  upon  the  mantel,  “where  it  re- 
mained sleeping,”  says  his  son,  “without  tobacco, 
smoke  or  fire  until  the  feast  of  Easter.  The  pipe, 
too,  kept  the  fast.” 

Madame  Agathe  Lacombe,  like  her  husband,  was 
of  a cheerful  domestic  nature,  pious,  thrifty  and  in- 
dustrious. She  was  a brunette  of  trim,  strong  phy- 
sique and  very  active.  Her  son,  however,  resembled 
his  father  in  face  and  form  rather  than  her. 

Albert  when  not  at  school  was  kept  closely  at  work 
on  the  farm,  and  his  boyish  spirit  chafed  at  the 
monotonous  round.  Picking  stones  on  new  land, 
feeding  the  pigs,  driving  the  plough!  This,  when  the 
boy’s  heart  in  him  was  burning  to  leave  the  farm,  to 
go  to  college — to  be  a great  man,  a priest  maybe  like 
the  old  cure.  Monsieur  de  Viau;  or  perhaps  to  leave 
books  altogether  and  like  his  grand-uncle,  Joseph  La- 
combe, to  go  far  into  the  Pays  d’en  Haut  with  the 
fur-company  and  be  the  most  daring  voyageur  of 
them  all.  Either  career  seemed  blissful  to  the  boy, 
for  these  two  men  were  the  heroes  of  his  childhood. 

The  kindly  old  cure  grew  attached  to  the  boy. 
“Mon  'petit  sauvage3y  (my  little  Indian),  he  used  to 


1840 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


7 


call  him — not  only  because  his  skin  and  eyes  were 
flashing  dark,  but  because  his  mother,  Agathe  Du- 
hamel  dite  Sans-Facon,  was  the  descendant  of  that 
Duhamel  maiden  carried  into  captivity  over  a hun- 
dred years  earlier  by  an  O jibway  chief.  The  French 
girl  bore  him  two  sons  before  her  voyageur  uncle 
stole  her  and  the  boys  from  a camp  at  Sault  Ste. 
Marie,  and  restored  her  to  the  Duhamels  of  Saint 
Sulpice.  One  of  these  boys  was  an  ancestor  of 
Madame  Lacombe. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  in  the  summer  of  1840  Al- 
bert Lacombe  with  his  wife  and  children  sat  sunning 
themselves  by  the  doorway  of  their  home,  when  the 
cure  drove  up  to  them  in  an  old  vehicle  drawn  by 
a fat  old  horse.  Fie  seated  himself  for  a short  inti- 
mate chat  as  a father  might  with  his  son. 

He  enquired  about  the  crops,  the  farm  work,  all 
the  good  habitant* s plans;  then  turning  suddenly  to- 
ward the  boy  Albert  he  said: 

“My  little  Indian,  what  are  you  going  to  do?” 

The  child’s  brain  throbbed  in  confusion.  He 
knew;  but  how  could  he  tell  Monsieur  le  cure?  He 
looked  desperately  up  to  his  father. 

“Monsieur  le  cure**  the  father  said,  “Albert  would 
go  to  the  big  college;  but  I have  no  means  to  send 
him.  And  besides  I need  him  here  to  help  me.” 
“My  lad,”  said  the  old  cure  directing  all  his  atten- 
tion to  the  boy,  “do  you  want  very  much  to  go  to 
college?” 

Albert,  always  emotional,  could  make  no  reply  in 


8 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1847 


words ; but  his  hand  grasped  the  extended  hand  of  the 
priest  and  the  tears  that  shone  in  the  dark  eyes  were 
eloquent. 

‘‘Eh,  bien,”  said  the  cure  turning  to  the  father. 
“You  will  send  him  to  the  college,  and  I will  pay 
his  way.  Who  knows?  . . . Some  day  our  little 

Indian  may  be  a priest  and  work  for  the  Indians!” 

In  this  way,  thanks  to  M.  Yiau,  another  bright 
young  mind  was  added  to  the  regiment  of  talented 
boys  without  means  who  were  then  and  still  are  being 
provided  for  in  Quebec  colleges  by  the  parish  priests 
or  by  religious  communities. 

Robust,  active  and  ambitious  as  a student  at  R’ As- 
sumption College,  the  little  Indian  worked  hard, 
played  hard,  and  stood  well  in  his  classes. 

The  rector  of  the  college,  made  aware  of  Albert’s 
desire  for  the  priesthood,  placed  him  at  the  conclusion 
of  his  classics  in  charge  of  a junior  class  in  the  col- 
lege, investing  him  at  the  same  time  with  the  cas- 
sock as  a mark  of  his  purpose. 

In  1847  he  was  called  to  the  bishop’s  Palace  in 
Montreal  to  continue  his  theological  studies  there. 
Bishop  Bourget  assigned  to  him  the  duties  of  under- 
secretary as  assistant  to  Canon  Pare,  while  his  theo- 
logical course  was  pursued  under  the  direction  of 
Monsignor  Prince,  the  coadjutor  bishop. 

These  studies  were  shared  by  Edouard  Fabre  (aft- 
erward Archbishop  of  Montreal) . A lifelong  friend- 
ship sprang  up  between  the  young  men.  They  dis- 
covered that  they  had  the  same  birthday;  and  each 


1848 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


9 


year  when  Madame  Fabre — a grande  dame  of  the  old 
school — celebrated  her  son’s  birthday  she  made  it  clear 
that  the  fete  was  equally  Albert’s  and  her  son’s. 

Life  at  the  Palace  was  pleasant,  yet  the  voyageur 
spirit  in  Albert  Lacombe  regarded  it  only  as  a means 
to  an  end.  Sixty  years  later  he  said : 

4 'There  at  the  house  of  the  Bishop,  my  good  pro- 
tector, my  dear  friend,  I was  very  happy.  They  were 
good  to  me — le  petit  sauvage , they  called  me.  The 
Canons  loved  me  and  were  kind;  I cannot  tell  you 
how  kind.  I had  not  too  much  work  to  fatigue  me. 
I was  well.  . . . The  cures>  the  parish  priests 

from  many  parts  of  the  country,  would  come  there — 
Oh!  hundreds  of  them  came  there,  one  or  two  at  a 
time  and  camped  there  for  three  or  four  nights. 

"They  were  fine  pleasant  men — I liked  to  meet 
them.  They  lived  in  comfortable  houses,  they  were 
liked  by  their  people.  They  did  good  work.  . . 

But  I would  look  at  them  and  say  to  myself,  'No, 
that  is  not  for  me.  I would  not  live  quiet  like  that 
for  all  the  world.  I must  go  out  and  work — I must 
save  my  soul  in  my  own  way.’  ” 

In  the  winter  of  1848  Father  George  Belcourt, 
a missionary  from  the  far  Pembina  district,  sought 
hospitality  from  the  venerable  bishop  and  alms  for 
his  missions  from  the  Catholics  of  Quebec.  He  was 
a powerful,  big  man  with  a rugged  face  and  great 
force  of  personality.  No  country  cure  with  delicious 
morsels  of  talk  about  this  or  that  quaint  parishioner; 
with  preferences  for  this  viand  or  that — but  a man 


10 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1848 


whose  tales  were  of  the  wild  rush  of  the  buffalo  hunt, 
of  the  wily  Saulteaux  and  Metis  or  murderous  Sioux 
to  whom  he  ministered;  of  the  splendid  struggle  for 
human  souls  in  a primitive  land. 

Albert  Lacombe  hung  on  the  stranger’s  words,  in 
the  community  hall,  at  table,  everywhere  he  went : and 
when  one  Sunday  night  Father  Belcourt  preached  in 
the  old  cathedral  of  St.  Jacques,  at  least  one  young 
man  in  the  Sanctuary  listened  enraptured  to  the  tales 
he  told  and  the  rousing  appeal  he  made  for  help. 

“Sunday  night,  when  the  cathedral  was  filled,”  he 
has  written  in  his  letters,  “the  missionary  went  up 
into  the  pulpit  and  painted  in  an  eloquent  way  the 
life  and  work  of  his  missions.  ...  I was  struck 
to  the  heart.  An  interior  voice  called  to  me — ‘Quem 
mittem?  (Whom  shall  I send?)  and  I said  in  re- 
ply, cEcce  ego,  mitte  me 9 (Behold,  I am  here;  send 
me).” 

The  following  morning  he  opened  his  mind  to  the 
bishop.  And  Age  counselled  Youth,  testing  its 
metal. 

“Wait  and  reflect;  and  above  all  pray  that  you  may 
come  to  know  God’s  will  in  the  matter.  Is  that  the 
work  for  which  the  Creator  has  destined  you?” 

The  young  man’s  heart  thumped  in  acclaim  of  this 
as  his  destiny,  but  perceiving  the  bishop’s  tender 
thought  for  himself  he  bided  his  time  as  patiently  as 
he  might.  His  early  patron — the  venerable  Abbe 
Yiau — who  was  now  an  invalid  in  a hospice  nearby, 
counselled  delay.  Canon  Pare  and  Canon  Mercier 


1848 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


11 


to  whom  he  owed  so  much  instruction,  advised  him  to 
give  up  the  idea. 

“You  are  happy  with  us;  you  are  too  young  to  go 
so  far.  Stay,”  they  said.  The  young  man  could  not 
argue  against  such  affectionate  opposition  as  this. 
He  went  his  way  in  silence,  with  his  mind  unchanged. 

“I  knew  I wanted  to  he  a priest,  but  failing  this 
mission-life,  if  I had  to  be  a cure , I would  have  de- 
cided to  return  to  the  world.  I wanted  to  make  every 
sacrifice,  or  none.  That  was  my  nature,”  he  has  said. 

As  spring  came  again  the  candidate’s  restless  de- 
sire for  the  missions  became  more  than  ever  apparent. 
The  bishop  sent  for  him  and  after  questioning  him 
closely  to  ascertain  the  genuineness  of  his  vocation, 
told  him  to  prepare  for  ordination:  he  might  leave 
for  the  West  the  following  summer.  Albert  was  ex- 
ultant, although  he  went  about  his  preparation  with 
a tinge  of  sadness. 

On  June  13th  in  St.  Hyacinthe  on  the  occasion  of 
the  annual  retreat  at  the  old  college,  he  was  raised  to 
the  priesthood.  Hundreds  witnessed  the  ceremony, 
and  at  the  imposition  of  hands  sixty  priests  in  turn 
approached  the  young  Levite  to  place  a hand  on  his 
handsome  dark  head  and  salute  him  as  brother. 

Father  Lacombe  returned  joyfully  to  Montreal, 
only  to  have  his  joy  dashed  at  the  very  threshold. 
. . . The  servant  who  admitted  him  announced 
that  the  Abbe  Viau  had  died  suddenly  that  forenoon. 

The  young  priest  could  not  believe  the  news  in  his 
first  grief;  only  the  evening  before  he  had  talked 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1849 


IS* 

long  with  his  venerable  patron,  who  seemed  in  the 
best  of  spirits  and  kissing  his  little  Indian  paternally, 
blessed  him  in  leave-taking,  with  these  words: 

“Mon  cher  Albert , I shall  pray  to-morrow  that  you 
will  always  be  a good  and  holy  priest.” 

And  now  the  Abbe  Viau  was  dead.  At  the  very 
hour  his  protege’s  ordination  had  taken  place  the  old 
priest  had  given  up  his  soul  to  his  Master.  “Whilst 
I wept  beside  his  inanimate  body,”  Father  Lacombe 
wrote  years  later,  “he  seemed  to  say  to  me:  ‘Cur sum 
consummavi  ...  (I  have  finished  the  course 
«.  « .).  Take  my  place  as  priest,  for  I have  helped 
to  make  you  what  you  are  to-day.’  ” 

The  plague  of  cholera  now  fell  with  blighting  force 
on  Montreal.  The  entire  energies  of  the  Bishop’s 
household  were  directed  to  combatting  the  dread  dis- 
ease. Canon  Mercier,  a man  of  much  charm  and  in- 
tellect warmly  loved  by  Father  Lacombe,  was  weak- 
ened by  his  untiring  ministry  and  succumbed  to  the 
plague. 

It  was  not  until  seven  weeks  after  his  ordination 
that  Father  Lacombe  could  leave  for  the  West.  His 
departure,  marked  by  a most  striking  scene,  was  de- 
scribed at  length  in  the  Melanges  Religieux,  a church 
paper  published  in  Montreal  at  that  period.  From 
this  and  other  sources  an  account  of  this  scene  has 
been  compiled. 

Its  significance — like  that  of  the  Mass  that 
prefaced  the  voyages  of  Columbus  and  Cartier  and 
Champlain,  or  the  prayers  of  the  departing  Pilgrim 


1849 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


13 


Fathers — is  that  great  deeds  of  venture  and  self-sac- 
rifice have  always  been  undertaken  by  the  believing 
heart,  the  man  to  whom  a supernatural  world  is  a 
reality.  The  mocker  criticises  from  the  comfortable 
depths  of  an  armchair  at  his  Club. 


II 


It  was  past  sunset  on  the  evening  of  July  31,  1849. 
In  gray  old  Montreal,  whose  early  history  is  in- 
woven  with  churchmen  and  church  influences,  in  the 
chapel  of  the  Bishop’s  Palace  there  was  enacted  that 
evening  a religious  drama  which  fits  in  well  with  the 
story  of  a metropolis  founded  by  the  knightly  de 
Maisonneuve. 

A young  man — dark,  vivid,  strongly-built  and 
black-gowned — stood  on  the  steps  before  the  altar, 
his  hands  almost  clenched  in  an  effort  to  hide  the 
emotion  that  flooded  him — his  head  upraised  as  in 
mental  distress  shutting  out  from  his  vision  a long 
row  of  ecclesiastics,  while  one  by  one  the  venerable 
Bishop,  the  Canons  and  Abbes  approached  him  and 
bent  to  kiss  his  feet. 

He  knew  this  was  only  the  old  custom  taken  from 
the  Seminary  of  Foreign  Missions  at  Paris,  and  sug- 
gested by  the  Biblical  verse : 

“How  beautiful  upon  the  mountains  are  the  feet  of  him 
that  bringeth  good  tidings  and  that  preacheth  peace.  . . .” 

He  knew  this,  but  his  whole  soul  was  in  protest 
against  it  now.  Once  he  had  thought  the  custom 
strangely  poetic  and  symbolic — but  now,  submitted 
to  it  himself?  . . . The  priest’s  sturdy,  clear- 

i!4 


,1849 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


15 


eyed  young  manhood  rebelled  against  such  tribute 
from  men  he  knew  to  be  stronger,  holier,  more 
worldly-wise  and  more  intellectual  than  himself.  But 
as  they  came — and  came,  bending  silently  to  his  feet, 
the  young  man  was  seized  on  a moment  with  the  awe 
of  a new,  almost  terrible  knowledge.  . . . 

Hah!  It  was  not  then  himself,  Albert  Lacombe, 
the  pet  of  the  Bishop’s  House,  the  newly-ordained, 
whom  they  saluted  thus:  it  was  instead  the  fulfilment 
in  him  of  the  ages-old  command  that  the  Peace  and 
Good  Will  of  the  Christ  should  be  carried  by  Chris- 
tians to  the  bourne  of  the  visible  world!  He,  “le 
petit  sauvage ” the  village  boy  of  Saint  Sulpice,  was 
now  to  be  an  ambassador  of  Christ — and  as  such  these 
old  men  honoured  him. 

His  head  sank  in  humility.  Protest  died  before 
the  higher  thought,  and  the  ceremony  became  a fresh 
consecration  of  himself  then — and  for  his  lifetime,  a 
memory  that  did  at  critical  moments  gird  him  in 
honour  and  duty  and  right. 

“My  heart  was  almost  suffocated  with  emotions,” 
writes  Father  Lacombe  himself  of  this  occasion  in 
his  Memoirs,  “when,  the  prayer  for  travellers  being 
said,  His  Lordship  called  me  to  the  altar  and  leaving 
me  stand  there  before  the  tabernacle  this  venerable 
bishop  lowered  himself  to  my  feet  to  kiss  them. 
Then  his  coadjutor,  and  one  after  another  all  the 
priests  of  the  Palace.  . . . Ah!  . . . The 
ceremony  was  finished,  but  for  me  its  memory  will 
endure  forever.  Still  to-day  in  my  difficulties  and 


16 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1849 


hardships  I think  with  new  courage  of  that  solemn 
moment  and  I see  again  those  men,  long  since  disap- 
peared from  the  world,  but  who  watch  from  above, 
praying  for  me  in  Heaven.” 

The  bishop  in  a voice  heavy  with  feeling  added  a 
brief  parting  word.  He  reminded  him,  says  the  Me- 
langes Religieiuv , of  the  immensity  of  the  sacrifice  he 
had  imposed  upon  himself  and  of  the  dangers  he 
would  incur.  . . . “My  dear  friend,  my  brother,” 

he  continued  feelingly,  “we  cannot  go  with  you  on 
your  journey,  but  you  will  be  accompanied  by  our 
prayers  and  our  hearts’  best  wishes.  . . . 

“ ‘Go  where  the  Spirit  of  God  has  called  you.  Go 
to  those  nations  still  seated  in  darkness  and  ignorance. 
Go  to  console  them  and  make  them  children  of  God. 
May  the  holy  angels  accompany  you.  Go,  in  fine, 
with  all  our  dearest  wishes  and  represent  there  the 
diocese  of  Montreal.”  Then  bending  toward  the 
young  priest,  he  concluded  solemnly: 

“My  son,  never  forget  your  holy  and  precious  call- 
ing. ...  7/  God  is  with  you , who  can  he  against 

you 

The  following  morning  Father  Lacombe  left  La- 
chine,  still  the  point  of  embarkation  for  the  Pays  d*en 
Haut  as  it  had  been  ten  years  earlier  when  the  bri- 
gades of  canoes  set  out  amid  cheers  and  the  songs  of 
the  voyageurs. 

As  the  primitive  steamboat  pushed  away  from  the 
dock  the  youthful  passenger  sought  his  cabin  and 
fought  the  pain  of  leave-taking  like  a man.  He  was 


1849 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


17 


glad  to  land  at  Buffalo,  for  neither  captain  nor  crew 
had  been  considerate  of  the  shy  young  priest  who 
spoke  very  little  English.  The  crew,  of  a rough  class 
and  unsympathetic  to  his  race  and  creed,  did  not 
trouble  to  hide  their  jeers  at  his  long  cassock — his 
“petticoat,”  as  they  termed  it. 

From  Buffalo  through  to  Dubuque  the  journey 
was  made  by  boat  and  by  stage  alternately.  Occa- 
sionally his  fellow-passengers  made  themselves  as 
objectionable  as  the  boat’s  crew  had  been.  In  all  his 
love-sheltered  days — among  the  child-hearted,  cour- 
teous folk  of  Saint  Sulpice  and  with  the  refined  and 
gentle  men  of  L’Assomption  and  the  Palace — he  had 
seen  nothing  of  the  rougher  side  of  life.  He  conse- 
quently chronicles  that  journey  as  one  of  the  most 
triste  experiences  of  his  life. 

It  was  arranged  that  he  should  go  first  to  Dubuque 
in  Iowa  where  Bishop  Loras  resided;  for  the  mission 
of  Pembina  on  the  Red  River,  whither  he  was  bound, 
was  then  in  the  diocesan  limits  of  Dubuque.  He 
was  received  with  wondering  kindness  by  the  vener- 
able bishop  and  his  vicar,  Father  Cretin.  Both 
marvelled  at  his  air  of  extreme  youth.  On  Sunday 
he  took  part  in  the  celebration  of  the  Feast  of  the 
Assumption,  the  patronal  feast  of  the  Church  in  the 
United  States,  and  preached  his  first  sermon. 

He  spoke  in  French,  for  Dubuque  was  peopled 
largely  with  Freneh-Canadians.  The  bishop,  who 
formally  assigned  Father  Lacombe  to  his  new  field, 
was  a cultured  and  pious  priest  from  old  France — 


18 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1849 


“with  the  mind  of  a statesman  and  the  heart  of  a 
saint.”  He  had  worked  in  Alabama  for  many  years 
and  was  then  busily  encouraging  settlers  to  come  to 
the  rich  prairies  of  Iowa. 

The  stay  with  Bishop  Loras  at  Dubuque  refreshed 
the  young  traveller,  and  he  resumed  his  journey  with 
new  courage.  On  the  bishop’s  advice  he  did  not  wear 
the  soutane  that  had  subjected  him  to  such  rudeness 
on  the  way  from  Canada,  but  the  precaution  was  un- 
necessary. The  captain  and  crew  of  the  boat  bound 
for  St.  Paul,  with  typical  western  tolerance,  treated 
him  very  kindly  and  even  helped  him  in  his  efforts  to 
learn  English. 

For  twelve  days  the  boat  puffed  its  slow  way  up 
the  current,  passing  occasional  encampments  of  In- 
dians on  the  green  banks.  Here  in  the  stillness  and 
free  airs  of  the  wilderness  the  spirit  of  the  great  West 
first  came  to  Father  Lacombe.  “I  began  to  breathe 
freely  at  last;  I felt  myself  a new  man,”  he  says  of 
those  delightful  days  on  the  Mississippi. 

One  day  the  boatmen  called  to  him  that  St.  Paul 
was  at  hand.  He  hurried  forward  to  look  on  the 
scattered  settlement  of  log-houses,  whose  occupants 
were  hurrying  down  to  the  riverside  to  meet  the  boat. 
As  Father  Lacombe  found  his  way  up  the  hill  along 
a path  destined  to  widen  into  one  of  the  main  streets 
of  St.  Paul  the  metropolis,  Father  Ravoux  came  hur- 
rying down  to  greet  him. 

St.  Paul,  which  had  dropped  its  disreputable  old 
name  of  Pig’s  Eye  to  adopt  the  name  of  Abbe  Gal- 


1849 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


19 


tier’s  mission,  consisted  of  about  thirty  primitive  log 
buildings  built  near  the  church  and  inhabited  by 
French-Canadians,  Metis  and  a few  American 
traders.  The  house  in  which  Father  Ravoux  enter- 
tained his  young  guest  and  on  whose  site  a large  news- 
paper office  now  stands  was  of  logs  and  about  eigh- 
teen feet  square.  It  had  been  built  by  Abbe  Galtier 
in  1841,  serving  as  chapel  and  residence,  and  two  years 
after  Father  Lacombe’s  visit  the  new  Bishop  Cretin 
took  possession  of  it  as  his  first  episcopal  palace. 

Father  Ravoux  brought  the  Canadian  into  this  bare 
little  dwelling  and  asked  him  to  consider  himself  mas- 
ter there  while  he  waited  for  the  Red  River  brigade 
to  come.  “For  my  part,”  he  continued,  “I  must  re- 
turn to  my  headquarters  at  Fort  Snelling  this  after- 
noon. You  will  officiate  here  to-morrow.” 

“But  where  am  I to  sleep?”  the  newcomer  asked. 
“Why,  here,”  said  the  older  priest,  pointing  to  a 
long  narrow  box.  “That  box  has  blankets  inside. 
Just  open  it  up.” 

“But  that’s  a coffin!”  Father  Lacombe  cried,  shud- 
dering as  his  sensitive  nature  recoiled  at  the  thought. 

“Yes,”  the  other  agreed  in  the  most  matter  of  fact 
way.  “A  half-breed  died  in  the  woods  the  other  day 
and  I helped  to  make  his  coffin.  It  was  too  short, 
and  we  had  to  make  another.  I kept  this  one.  It 
is  very  useful;  I only  had  blankets  before.” 

Studying  English,  listening  to  the  yarns  of  the 
trappers  and  traders  sunning  themselves  on  the  gos- 
sip-benches of  the  little  village,  Father  Lacombe 


20 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1849 


waited  one  month  for  the  arrival  of  Father  Belcourt’s 
brigade.  This  was  a new  experience  and  his  heart 
rose  to  it  as  he  watched  the  train  of  clumsy  carts  come 
creaking  down  the  trail.  They  were  drawn  by  oxen, 
and  the  brigade  was  manned  by  a couple  of  Canadian 
freemen,1  a Metis  2 and  an  Indian. 

They  loaded  up  the  carts  with  supplies  for  the  mis- 
sion; then  one  day  late  in  September  they  set  out 
for  Pembina,  with  Father  Ravoux  and  the  whole  vil- 
lage looking  on.  They  called  out  cheery  adieux;  the 
drivers  snapped  their  long  whips  and  the  slow-breath- 
ing animals  plodded  along  the  trail  aglow  now  with 
autumn  tints. 

The  Pembina  men  announced  early  to  the  new- 
comer that  the  trails  were  bad  through  the  woods, 
where  they  were  obliged  to  travel  for  fear  of  the 
roving  Indians.  But  nothing  they  said  prepared  him 
for  the  muddy  roads,  the  marshes  and  creeks  swollen 
by  recent  rain.  At  times  their  oxen  and  carts  sank 
deep  in  a swamp,  and  the  entire  party  was  obliged 
to  get  into  harness  to  draw  them  out,  after  they  had 
carried  most  of  the  provisions  on  their  backs  to  firm 
ground. 

When  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lac  Rouge,  in  the 
country  of  a band  of  Saulteaux  called  the  Plunderers, 
a fairly  large  party  of  these  Indians  suddenly  came 
upon  them. 

1 Former  servants  of  the  Hudson’s  Bay  Company  whose  term  of  con- 
tract had  expired. 

2 Metis — A person  of  mixed  blood,  and  consequently  a more  correct 
term  than  “half-breeds”  for  natives  who  were  in  part  Indians. 


Winnipeg  in  1870 


First  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul 


The  rear  half  is  the  room  occupied  by  Father  Lacombe  in  1849 


1849 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


21 


They  exacted  a tribute  of  food.  It  was  not  their 
intention  to  make  war  on  a Blackrobe  and  Metis, 
but  they  proposed  to  exercise  their  right  as  master  of 
that  bit  of  territory.  Probably,  too,  they  were  hungry. 
In  any  case  the  lordly  braves  went  through  the  carts, 
took  out  what  they  wanted  of  provisions  and  articles 
intended  for  the  mission.  Then  reducing  the  bri- 
gade’s men  to  a proper  state  of  subjection  by  threats 
the  high-handed  knights  of  the  road  went  off  in  great 
good-humour. 

The  little  party  lightened  their  carts  by  caching 
some  of  their  freight,  then  pushed  on.  They  had 
about  sickened  of  the  trip  as  well  as  exhausted  their 
pemmican  when  they  met  another  caravan  by  which 
Father  Belcourt  had  sent  provisions.  They  pushed 
on  with  fresh  spirit. 

When  one  nightfall  the  young  missionary’s  caravan 
made  its  way  to  the  end  of  the  trail,  the  first  snowfall 
of  the  year  was  enveloping  them  in  a ghostly  mist, 
through  which  the  lights  of  the  rude  mission-place 
set  down  in  the  wilderness  shone  as  a goal  of  delights. 

Father  Belcourt  came  bustling  out  to  meet  him  and 
drew  him  into  the  grateful  light  of  the  hearth.  He 
was  another  sort  of  man  than  Loras  or  Ravoux — less 
fine-fibred,  but  splendidly  strong  and  able  to  cope 
with  any  band  of  Indians  or  any  western  emergency. 
He  held  sway  like  an  Emperor  in  this  woodland  king- 
dom, by  force  of  his  personality  as  well  as  by  his  of- 
fice. 


Ill 


Here  in  the  forest-mission  of  Pembina,  Father 
Lacombe  was  to  serve  the  apprenticeship  to  his  life- 
work,  his  wander  jahre  between  youth  and  the  serious 
battlefield  of  life. 

The  mission  had  been  established  in  1818  by  Rev. 
Severe  Dumoulin,  who  with  Father  Provencher  had 
answered  Lord  Selkirk’s  request  for  priests.  A num- 
ber of  French  freemen  once  employed  by  the  North- 
West  Company  had  settled  with  their  Metis  families 
about  Pembina.  In  1824  many  of  these  settlers 
founded  a new  home  on  the  White  Horse  Plains 
across  the  border.  Pembina,  however,  remained  a 
mission-headquarters  for  the  wandering  Saulteaux, 
and  when  Father  Lacombe  arrived  was  a village  of 
some  size  composed  of  American  half-breeds  and  In- 
dians. 

He  at  once  bent  himself  to  the  study  of  Saulteau, 
one  of  the  Algonquin  dialects.  He  did  not  find  the 
task  difficult,  for  then  and  throughout  his  life  In- 
dian languages  had  a strong  fascination  for  him.  He 
had  the  further  advantage  of  using  a dictionary  and 
grammar  composed  by  Father  Belcourt. 

In  December  the  two  men  went  to  St.  Boniface  to 
pay  their  respects  to  Bishop  Provencher.  On  their 
return  home  Father  Lacombe  again  applied  himself 

22 


1850 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


S3 


to  his  studies,  taking  spiritual  charge  as  well  of  the 
mission,  while  his  intrepid  superior  spent  the  winter 
journeying  by  dog-sleighs  and  on  foot  hundreds  of 
miles  though  the  forest. 

The  young  missionary  was  not  dissatisfied  with  his 
first  season  at  Pembina.  That  is  perhaps  the  best 
that  can  be  said  of  it.  He  found  his  small  flock  de- 
vout and  attentive  to  their  religious  exercises  during 
the  long  quiet  winter.  He  did  not  lack  food  of  a 
rough  order,  nor  did  he  have  any  hardship  to  endure. 
But  the  lack  of  congenial  company  and  the  com- 
parative inactivity  weighed  on  him.  He  found 
vent  for  his  restless  energies  only  in  his  Indian  studies. 
These  he  devoured  and  consequently  made  notable 
advance. 

Spring  came  with  warm  breaths  from  the  South- 
land, pushing  the  anemones  and  bloodroot  up  like  lit- 
tle friends  to  greet  the  lonely  young  priest.  It 
sounded,  too,  a reveille  to  the  languid  Metis.  One  day 
a band  of  them  came  down  the  river  in  canoes  from 
their  winter  camp.  Almost  daily  others  followed  by 
the  river  or  across  the  plains,  for  Pembina  was  a 
famous  rendezvous  of  the  buffalo-hunters. 

At  last  all  the  Metis  of  that  region  had  gathered 
there.  The  Mission  grew  in  a few  days  to  the  pro- 
portions of  a town,  and  the  woodland  was  dotted  with 
tents.  The  Pembina  Metis  had  sowed  and  planted 
their  gardens,  and  were  now  ready  with  the  keenest 
anticipation  for  the  yearly  excursion  to  the  prairies. 

This  was  the  Golden  Age  of  the  Indian  and  Metis, 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1850 


24* 

when  the  bison  still  roamed  the  great  plains  in  unnum- 
bered thousands.  The  tender  buffalo  flesh,  dried, 
fresh  or  pounded,  made  a food  both  appetizing  and 
nutritious;  the  buffalo  skin  made  robes  for  garments 
and  bedding,  hide  for  tepees  and  canoes ; while  on  the 
unwooded  plains  the  sun-dried  manure  served  the 
purpose  of  fuel. 

The  buffalo  in  fine  was  the  chief  factor  of  life  in 
the  West;  its  pursuit  the  chief  joy  of  the  native. 
From  the  first  the  missionaries  had  learned  to  look  on 
the  time  of  this  buffalo-hunt  as  most  favourable  for 
teaching  Christian  doctrines  to  the  Indians.  They 
were  then  most  comfortable  and  correspondingly 
amiable,  and  in  the  long  evenings  or  longer  days  when 
they  sat  sunning  themselves  while  the  women  pre- 
pared the  meat  of  the  last  kill  the  Indian  warrior 
smoked  his  pipe  happily  and  listened  with  pleasure 
to  the  old  story  of  the  Redemption. 

It  fell  to  Father  Lacombe’s  lot  to  be  the  chaplain 
of  the  great  Hunt  in  1850.  He  was  alive  to  the 
pleasures  and  novelty  of  his  new  assignment,  for  all 
about  him  the  preparations  of  his  people  were  tinged 
with  joyousness  and  excitement.  He  took  a hand  in 
the  preparations,  but  unfortunately  as  he  was  squar- 
ing a board  to  mend  his  mission-cart  the  broad-axe 
slipped  and  cut  his  right  foot  badly. 

To  his  intense  regret  Father  Belcourt  decided  he 
should  remain  at  the  Mission,  but  the  sympathetic 
Metis  perceiving  his  disappointment  and  anxious  for 
his  company  begged  his  superior  to  let  the  young 


1850 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


25 


priest — the  Monias — come.  They  promised  to  take 
every  care  of  him,  and  Father  Belcourt  yielded. 

On  the  great  eve  Father  Lacombe  called  the  band 
together.  In  the  open  air  they  recited  with  him  the 
evening  prayers  and  startled  the  forest-echoes  with 
their  lusty  rendering  of  the  hymns  Father  Belcourt 
had  translated  into  Indian. 

“No  order,”  says  Father  Lacombe,  “had  been  ob- 
served up  to  this  in  their  mode  of  arrival  or  their 
preparations,  but  Voila!  how  the  scene  changes 
. . . !”  The  women  and  children  withdrew  after 

prayers  to  their  lodges,  and  the  fine  discipline  of  a 
military  camp  suddenly  pervaded  the  assembly.  The 
hunters  held  a council  to  select,  by  a majority  of 
votes,  a Chief  and  ten  captains,  who  in  turn  selected 
ten  or  fifteen  others  to  act  as  scouts.  Then  they  drew 
up  anew  the  laws  of  the  hunt,  which  were  as  the 
laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians — incontestable  by  the 
most  independent  once  they  were  accepted. 

The  half-breed  hunter  Wilkie,  who  had  been 
elected  Chief,  rose  at  the  close  of  the  council  and 
asked  for  the  hunters’  acceptance  of  these  laws  as  a 
whole.  This  being  done  by  a majority  of  voices  the 
Chief  declared  solemnly: 

“If  any  among  you  do  not  approve  of  these  laws, 
let  him  leave  our  camp  and  come  not  with  us,  for 
once  we  have  set  out  together  from  this  encampment 
no  one  will  be  free  to  separate  from  us.” 

No  man  left  the  assembly;  they  silently  approved 
of  its  laws.  These  related  to  the  time  and  mode  of 


26 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1850 


chasing  buffalo,  to  the  patrol  of  the  camp  by  the 
guards  and  to  the  penalties  fixed  for  the  infringement 
of  any  of  these  laws. 

The  scene  of  departure  next  morning  is  given  in 
detail  by  Father  Lacombe: 

“After  an  early  Mass  next  morning  the  signal  of 
departure  was  given  by  the  guide  of  the  day  with 
a little  flag.  In  an  instant  a great  commotion  ran 
through  the  whole  camp.  The  lodges  of  skin  and 
the  tents  were  pulled  down,  the  horses  were  brought 
into  a corral  from  the  prairie  and  the  women  made 
haste  to  pack  into  the  carts  their  small  household 
goods.  Then  the  women  and  children  took  seats  in 
the  carts — the  hunters  mounted  their  buffalo-runners 
. . . and  the  camp  set  out  on  its  march.” 

This  remarkable  procession,  like  some  patriarchal 
exodus  in  the  days  of  Jacob,  moved  slowly  out  over 
the  dewy  prairie  shining  a green-gold  in  the  level  sun- 
light. Propped  up  as  comfortably  as  might  be  in 
a Red  River  cart  Father  Lacombe,  watchful  of  his 
bandaged  foot,  was  now  off  on  the  first  of  his  many 
buffalo-hunts.  He  estimates  there  were  from  800  to 
1,000  carts  in  the  camp  that  year  and  over  1,000  men, 
women  and  children,  as  well  as  hundreds  of  fine  ponies 
for  buffalo  runners,  cart  horses,  oxen  and  innumer- 
able dogs. 

Close  on  to  the  sixth  day  out,  as  the  prairie  air  lay 
drenched  in  the  mellow  gold  of  the  afternoon  sun — 
and  the  slow-moving  cavalcade  began  to  throw  long 
shadows  across  the  tender  grass,  the  Metis’  long  dis- 


1850 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


27 


orderly  lines  drew  near  to  the  Turtle  Mountains. 
Scouts  pushing  on  ahead  saw  in  the  distance  an  im- 
mense herd  of  buffalo,  and  thrilled  with  delight  they 
hurried  to  the  nearest  hill  and  signalled  the  good  news 
to  their  party. 

The  information  flashed  back  by  the  flags  was  in- 
toxicating. Joy  like  an  infectious  laugh  ran  through 
the  whole  regiment  of  marching  Metis,  and  the  buf- 
falo-ponies, keen  for  the  hunt  as  their  masters  were, 
understood  the  sudden  commotion  and  halt.  In  a 
trice  the  women,  children  and  old  men  dragged  out 
the  lodge  poles  and  skins  and  erected  the  camp. 
The  hunting-ponies  were  led  aside,  swiftly  mounted 
— and  presto ! in  a flash  men  and  horses  hurled  them- 
selves against  the  herd. 

In  full  gallop,  Father  Lacombe  with  them,  they 
flashed  along  the  prairie  and  in  less  time  than  an  on- 
looker could  credit  it  the  bluff,  on  which  the  scouts 
had  paused,  was  covered  with  this  cavalry  of  the 
plains.  . . . U-la-la!  On  the  green  rolling 
prairies  stretching  before  them  to  the  horizon  buffalo 
were  grazing — thousands  of  them,  forming  a billowy 
black  lake  on  the  prairie. 

“Our  captains,”  writes  Father  Lacombe,  “gave  the 
word,  and  the  hunters  instantly  fell  into  place  form- 
ing one  immense  line  of  attack.  It  was  all  done  with 
the  least  possible  noise  or  commotion,  so  that  the  un- 
suspecting animals  might  not  be  aroused.  For  while 
their  vision  is  short,  their  hearing  and  power  of  smell 
are  very  acute.  Our  ponies  lined  up  without  direc- 


£8 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1850 


tion  from  their  masters,  pawing  up  the  short  herbage 
and  dust — as  ardent  for  the  chase  as  the  riders  they 
carried/’ 

Father  Lacombe  recited  an  Act  of  Contrition  to 
which  the  hunters  responded  with  bent  heads.  They 
raised  their  eyes,  took  a long  glad  survey  from  the 
bluff — then — 

“En  avantr  the  leader  cried,  and  men  and  horses 
as  one  flew  forward  with  whirlwind  velocity — and  the 
poor  stupid  buffalo  pitilessly  trapped  broke  into  con- 
fused flight. 

The  stillness  of  the  plains  was  broken  with  the 
heavy  thunder  of  stampeded  bison,  the  shrillings  of 
the  Metis  and  the  tumult  of  the  rushing  ponies 
blended  with  the  animals’  mad  bellowing. 

“What  a scene!  What  confusion!”  writes  Father 
Lacombe  in  reminiscence.  “The  story  of  combats 
of  Spanish  bulls  furious  at  their  adversaries  conveys 
a feeble  picture  compared  to  this  magnificent  attack. 

. . . of  the  men  of  the  prairie  attacking,  defying, 

maddening  the  great  beast  of  the  plains.  The  buf- 
falo, naturally  timid  and  fearful,  grows  enraged  at 
his  pursuers,  and  from  the  moment  he  is  wounded  he 
becomes  terrible  and  dangerous.” 

The  Cossack  and  his  marvels  of  horsemanship,  the 
cowboy  and  his  feats  of  broncho-riding  have  had  their 
praises  sung  the  world  over — but  the  Metis  buffalo- 
hunters  of  the  Canadian  plains  has  never  yet  had  his 
due.  These  hunts,  as  described  by  Father  Lacombe, 
were  always  filled  with  marvels  of  horsemanship. 


1850 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


29 


. . . The  hunter’s  daring  as  he  urged  his  pony  in 

and  out  labyrinth  paths  among  the  doomed  buf- 
falo, was  fiendish:  he  was  exposing  himself  momenta- 
rily to  be  thrown  from  his  horse  and  trampled  into 
the  earth  under  a hundred  cruel  insentient  hoofs,  or 
to  become  a human  plaything  tossed  again  and  again 
into  the  air  from  the  horns  of  an  enraged  animal. 

As  the  hunters  pressed  on  to  harry  the  buffaloes, 
they  dropped  the  reins,  guiding  their  ponies  by  the 
pressure  of  their  limbs  only,  or  bending  their  half- 
naked  supple  bodies  now  to  this  side,  then  to  that — 
while  the  trained  pony  responded  with  an  obedience 
that  made  rider  and  pony  one.  Each  hunter  car- 
ried a powder-horn  at  his  belt  and  bullets  in  his 
mouth;  and  discharging  and  reloading  their  short 
flint-lock  muskets  with  incredible  dexterity,  they 
aimed  at  vital  parts  of  the  huge  blundering  beasts 
beside  them. 

Sometimes  in  their  driving  haste  a bullet  slipped 
down  in  the  barrel  of  the  gun  and  the  charge  ex- 
ploded, lacerating  the  unfortunate  Indian  or  Metis — 
and  the  end  was  a tragedy!  . . . Again  borne 

along  in  the  exaltation  of  the  chase,  guiding  the  pony 
with  his  body  and  repeatedly  discharging  his  gun, 
the  hunter  wounded  several  buffalo  in  what  seemed 
but  one  flash.  And  the  joy  and  lust  of  the  slaughter 
entered  into  him,  driving  him  on  to  new  feats. 

The  attack  was  short,  terrible  and  altogether  de- 
cisive. The  melee  of  man  and  beast,  the  industrious, 
designed  work  of  carnage  that  day  near  the  Turtle 


30 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1850 


Mountain  lasted  about  twenty  minutes ; by  which  time 
the  immense  herd  of  buffalo  Avas  utterly  put  to  rout. 
Hundreds  of  wounded  animals  strewed  the  plains: 
but  on  this  occasion  to  Father  Lacombe’s  anxious  de- 
light there  were  no  accidents.  No  hunter,  but  lately 
exultant,  lay  moaning  in  the  brief  hour  of  pain  that 
bridges  the  glory  of  the  hunt — and  Stillness. 

Far  out  over  the  plains  the  scattered  herd  drew 
together  again,  and  from  some  fruitless  pursuit  or 
successful  skirmish  the  exhausted  men  and  their  ponies 
gathered  in  about  the  scene  of  combat.  The  hunters 
went  out  to  look  for  the  animals  each  had  killed.  The 
wounded  buffalo  groaned  on  every  side.  Some  in- 
furiated beasts,  although  mortally  wounded,  main- 
tained themselves  standing,  vomiting  blood  yet  stub- 
bornly fighting  against  Death.  They  were  incarnate 
Furies  making  a last  stand  on  their  own  battleground. 

The  turmoil  of  the  hunt  was  scarcely  over  before 
the  stillness  of  the  plains  was  broken  by  a new,  lighter 
clamour.  . . . Delighted  women  and  children 

were  hastening  from  the  camp  with  carts  drawn  by 
old  ponies,  useless  for  running  but  well  able  to  haul 
back  the  spoils. 

Close  on  to  800  buffalo  had  been  killed. 

The  hunters  sought  out  their  own  spoils  among 
the  carcasses.  They  killed  the  wounded  animals,  em- 
ploying their  knives  with  a marvellous  dexterity. 
“The  head,  feet  and  entrails  of  the  buffalo  remained 
on  the  field  and  became  the  portion  of  the  wolves  who 
scented  the  slaughter  from  afar  off,”  Father  Lacombe 


1850 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


31 


writes,  “and  came  by  hundreds  over  the  plains  to 
throw  themselves  on  the  reeking  debris  after  the  hun- 
ters had  gone.” 

In  picturesque  disorder  the  party  made  its  way 
back  through  the  cool  evening  airs  to  the  fires  of  the 
camp  by  Turtle  Mountains.  The  meat  had  been 
piled  on  the  creaking  carts  by  the  women  and  hunters, 
and  the  latter  with  their  labours  concluded  walked 
beside  their  tired  mounts  or  rode  them  at  a gentle 
lope  over  the  prairie,  preceding  the  carts  and  the 
womenfolk. 

It  was  a triumphal  procession  of  the  primitive  man. 

At  the  camp  the  ponies  were  turned  free.  The 
hunters  sat  about  the  fires,  smoking  and  living  the 
brief  wild  hunt  over  again.  Meanwhile  the  women 
picked  out  the  choicest  bits  of  fresh  meat  and  cooked 
a savoury  meal  for  their  lords. 

The  following  day  the  Metis  in  hundreds  climbed 
with  Father  Lacombe  to  the  top  of  Turtle  Mountain 
and  planted  there  a large  wooden  cross.  The  camp  re- 
mained at  this  point  for  several  days  while  the  women 
after  the  centuries-old  fashion  of  their  sex  dressed 
the  buffalo  skins  and  dried  the  meat.  Father  La- 
combe watched  their  work  with  the  interested  eyes 
of  the  newcomer.  They  first  cut  up  the  meat  in  very 
long  strips  which  they  stretched  to  dry  on  scaffolds 
made  of  young  trees.  After  two  or  three  days’  ex- 
posure to  the  sun  the  meat  was  sufficiently  dry  for  the 
women  to  fold  it  into  packages  tightly  bound  with 
sinew,  each  bundle  weighing  from  60  to  70  pounds. 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1850 


Then  with  their  stone  mallets  they  pounded  dried 
meat  to  powder  in  wooden  bowls,  mixing  hot  grease 
and  dried  berries  with  it,  packing  the  whole  into 
large  sacks  of  buffalo-hide,  called  by  the  Metis — tau- 
reaux . . . . This  was  pimik-kan , the  manna  of 

the  Canadian  prairies. 

On  these  hunting-trips  the  chaplain’s  post  was  not 
one  of  sweet  doing-nothing.  He  was  the  father  of 
the  party,  the  physician,  counsellor  and  arbiter  of 
quarrels.  Every  morning  at  early  dawn  mass  was 
said  in  his  tent,  and  while  F ather  Lacombe  knelt  after 
Mass  in  the  customary  thanksgiving  there  was  per- 
fect stillness  in  the  camp,  for  the  Indians  and  Metis 
alike  respected  the  prayers  and  meditations  of  the 
Praying-man.  During  the  day  there  were  catechism 
classes  for  the  children,  and  instruction  for  the  women 
and  aged  people  left  in  the  camp  while  the  men 
hunted. 

Some  days  when  the  hunters  were  at  home  resting 
while  the  women  did  their  share  of  the  community- 
work,  they  brought  themselves  and  their  pipes  around 
the  priest’s  tent  and  listened  to  him  or  helped  him  in 
his  study  of  Saulteau.  And  in  the  evening  when  all 
the  camp  was  quiet;  when  the  little  coppery  babies 
had  fallen  asleep  and  the  dogs  sank  into  slumber  in 
gorged  content,  Father  Lacombe  would  ring  his  bell 
and  gather  the  whole  camp  about  his  tent. 

There  they  sang  hymns  and  prayed,  until  the  priest 
said  good-night  to  them,  and  the  moccasined  congre- 
gation withdrew  quietly  to  their  tepees  and  repose. 


1850 


FATHER  LACQMBE 


S3 


. . . The  horses  were  hobbled  within  the  circle 

of  tents;  the  night-sentinels  kept  sleepless  vigil — and 
the  silence  of  the  wide  prairie  fell  upon  the  camp, 
upon  the  young  Praying-man  and  his  docile  flock. 

“You  can  never  publish  and  I can  never  express 
how  good  these  Metis  children  of  the  prairies  were,” 
Father  Lacombe  has  observed.  “In  that  Golden  Age 
when  they  hunted  buffalo  and  practised  our  Chris- 
tianity— with  the  fervour  of  the  first  Christians — 
their  lives  were  blameless.  They  were  a beautiful 
race  then — those  children  of  the  prairies.” 

For  three  months  this  pleasant,  primitive  existence 
continued,  with  long  days  of  sunny  quiet  following 
upon  the  exciting  moments  of  the  chase.  The  hunts 
were  many,  and  before  the  camp  turned  home  toward 
Pembina  each  family  had  made  ample  provision  for 
the  next  winter.  They  had  stores  of  dried  meat  and 
pemmican  for  their  own  food  as  well  as  many  bales  of 
leather  and  meat  and  grease  to  exchange  with  the 
traders. 

Moreover — “Each  one  had  laid  on  a goodly  supply 
of  fat,”  says  Father  Lacombe,  “which  would  serve 
him  as  a fine  blanket  to  withstand  the  cold  season.” 

Day  by  day  as  the  winding  cavalcade  of  laden  carts 
and  hunters  neared  Pembina  little  bands  of  hunters 
dropped  out  of  the  ranks  and  made  their  way  to  Fort 
Gariy  or  other  points.  The  power  and  authority  of 
President  Wilkie  ceased  to  exist,  and  every  man  was 
free  to  direct  his  steps  wherever  he  wished. 


IV 


When  Father  Lacombe’s  cart  stopped  before  the 
mission-house  and  his  superior  came  out  to  greet  him 
— warmly,  but  with  the  quizzical  smile  of  the  expe- 
rienced— the  younger  man  suddenly  became  conscious 
of  the  figure  he  made.  He  was  unmistakably  a re- 
turned chaplain  of  the  hunt;  his  face  was  burnt  to 
copper  by  the  ardent  sun;  his  soutane  was  soiled  and 
frayed,  even  ragged  in  places.  He  remembered  that 
the  altar-linen  and  small  ornaments  of  his  portable 
chapel  were  in  sad  disarray  and  odorous  of  wood- 
smoke. 

“But  what  of  all  that?”  he  asks.  “Did  I not  come 
back  happy  of  the  good  I had  been  permitted  to  do?” 
Souls  kept  reconciled  to  their  Maker,  sins  prevented 
by  the  presence  of  the  priest  in  the  camp — what  did 
the  ragged  soutane  or  the  smoky  linen  matter? 

For  another  winter  Father  Lacomhe  was  left  in 
charge  of  the  Pembina  mission.  The  ministerial  du- 
ties of  the  young  missionary  were  not  heavy ; his  flock 
was  small.  He  applied  himself  as  assiduously  as  be- 
fore to  master  the  language.  Perhaps  some  of  the 
charm  of  novelty  had  worn  away  for  a spirit  naturally 
restless.  In  any  case  he  found  this  winter  a hard  one. 

While  sensitive  and  impressionable — almost  poetic 

34 


1850 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


35 


— in  temperament  he  was  assuredly,  too,  of  a nature 
born  to  rule.  But  there  was  nothing  here  to  dominate 
— no  opposition  to  overcome ! There  seemed  no  out- 
let for  his  energies.  He  knew  that  all  about  him  in 
this  storied  Pays  d*en  Haut,  land  of  adventure  and 
freedom,  men  were  living  out  their  lives  as  they  would. 
The  reckless  blood  of  many  an  ancestor  who  had 
known  his  brief  day  of  glory  and  freedom  among 
the  voyageurs  stirred  in  him  at  the  thought.  He  was 
restless  and  moody. 

Did  the  man  hear  the  spirit  of  the  wild  calling? 
If  he  did,  the  priest  throttled  the  response,  and  with 
the  subtler  heroism  that  wins  no  acclaim  carried  out 
the  round  of  each  day’s  duties.  He  would  have  in- 
finitely preferred  the  hardships  and  wanderings  of 
Father  Belcourt,  his  combat  with  the  elements  and 
the  indifference  of  some  of  the  tribes.  But  here  he 
was  left  . . . like  an  old  woman  about  the  fire, 

because  he  was  young  and  green  and  could  not  speak 
Indian  fluently!  At  this  thought  he  would  set  him- 
self with  fierce  ardour  to  master  the  dialect. 

Often,  too,  in  his  inner  vision  of  Montreal’s  gray 
streets  two  thousand  miles  away  he  saw  again  that 
dim  chapel  in  the  Bishop’s  Palace — with  the  softened 
voices  of  children  at  play  outside;  with  the  good 
French-Canadian  homes  about  and  his  brother-priests 
praying  beside  and  for  him ; and  above  it  all  he  always 
heard  the  gravely  sweet  accents  of  his  beloved  old 
guardian : 

“Go,  my  son,  and  never  forget  your  holy  and 


36 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1851 


precious  calling.  ' If  God  is  with  you , who 
can  he  against  you V3 

There  was  the  rock  on  which  the  tidal  forces  of 
Nature  broke.  It  was  his  priesthood  alone  that  kept 
Albert  Laeombe  that  winter  from  faring  out  over  the 
forests  and  prairies — a voyageur,  an  Indian. 

Spring  came  and  Father  Belcourt  with  it,  and  soon 
after  the  hunters  re-assembled  for  the  summer  hunt. 
Father  Laeombe  went  with  them  again  as  chaplain, 
but  on  their  return,  when  the  small  harvest  of  their 
fields  and  gardens  was  gathered  in,  and  even  the  long 
insistent  singing  of  the  grasshoppers  had  failed — the 
young  priest  saw  the  ghost  of  another  such  winter  as 
the  last  approach — and  he  simply  told  himself  he  could 
not  meet  it.  Discretion  undoubtedly  is  at  times  the 
better  part  of  valour. 

He  decided  to  go  back  to  Montreal,  until  he  could 
arrange  to  return  to  the  western  missions  in  another 
capacity.  He  planned,  though  vaguely,  to  join  some 
religious  order — perhaps  the  Oblates,  a new  order 
from  France  of  which  he  had  heard  Bishop  Proven- 
cher  speak  highly. 

The  rules  of  a religious  order,  he  knew,  in  the  sta- 
tioning of  its  men  and  in  periodical  reunions,  made 
special  provision  for  the  spiritual  as  well  as  material 
well-being  of  a man.  Realizing  the  conflict  of  his 
years  and  his  voyageur  blood  with  the  consecration 
of  his  life  he  decided  he  must  have  the  sustaining  in- 
fluence of  the  Order’s  discipline  and  the  assistance  of 
brethren. 


1852 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


87 


Father  Belcourt  agreed  it  was  best  for  the  young 
priest  to  follow  his  own  counsel. 

From  St.  Paul  he  retraced  his  voyage  of  1849  to 
Montreal.  After  a brief  visit  to  his  parents  he  went 
to  pass  the  winter  with  the  venerable  cure  of  Ber- 
thier,  Abbe  Gagnon,  whom  he  assisted  in  his  duties. 

In  March  of  the  following  year,  1852,  the  new  co- 
adjutor bishop  of  St.  Boniface  passed  through  Que- 
bec. Father  Lacombe  decided  this  was  his  oppor- 
tunity and  hurried  to  offer  the  bishop  his  services  for 
the  Red  River  missions. 

This  was  a notable  meeting.  The  two  young 
missionaries,  twenty-five  and  twenty-eight  years  old 
respectively,  offered  excellent  types  of  the  two  classes 
of  the  French-Canadian — the  aristocrat  and  the  hab- 
itant. Each  was  strong  of  physique  though  far  from 
tall.  Both  had  vivid  dark  faces  lit  by  keen  eyes ; both 
were  full  of  magnetism  and  energy,  blessed  with  a 
playful  humour  and  sympathetic  to  a remarkable  de- 
gree. 

The  bishop  was  a man  of  scholarly  tastes ; the  other 
a man  of  action  and  piety.  The  bishop’s  manner  was 
graceful,  easy  and  dignified,  while  behind  the  shyness 
and  humility  of  the  younger  man  was  the  dormant 
sense  of  power  which  was  to  develop  into  such  native 
imperiousness.  In  each  was  the  blood  of  daring  men 
and  enduring  pioneer  women,  although  of  different 
classes. 

Bishop  Tache  had  no  Indian  ancestry  and  no  in- 
souciant voyageur  behind  him,  but  besides  several  gen- 


38 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1852 


erations  of  military  men  and  statesmen  there  were 
among  his  mother’s  ancestors  the  name  of  Joliet  the 
explorer,  the  Bouchers  and  Varennes  de  la  Veran- 
drye,  the  first  and  dauntless  explorer  of  the  Canadian 
West. 

Two  hours  after  they  met,  Father  Lacombe  began 
preparations  for  returning  to  the  West!  His  land 
of  Destiny  was  still  beckoning  to  him. 

• ••••••# 

Arriving  at  St.  Boniface  in  1852  with  Bishop 
Tache  and  Father  Grollier,  Father  Lacombe  found 
the  village  in  gloom.  This  was  the  year  of  the  great 
floods  along  the  Red  River : houses  and  barns  had  been 
swept  away,  cattle  drowned.  The  cathedral  and  pal- 
ace being  built  of  stone  had  become  public  warehouses 
and  places  of  retreat. 

The  gloomy  outlook  for  the  winter  season  was  as 
disheartening  to  Bishop  Provencher  as  to  his  Metis, 
but  fresh  courage  came  to  the  venerable  prelate  with 
the  arrival  of  the  three  energetic  young  men. 

Father  Lacombe’s  unexpected  coming  seemed  to 
him  entirely  providential.  It  had  been  decided  that 
Father  Lacombe  should  make  his  novitiate  at  St.  Bon- 
iface and  acquaint  himself  with  the  constitution  and 
discipline  of  the  Oblate  Order  before  taking  up  ac- 
tive missionary  work.  These  plans  were  speedily 
upset  on  his  arrival. 

Father  Thibault,  who  had  gone  up  the  Saskatche- 
wan in  184T,  had  just  arrived  from  Fort  Edmonton 
by  the  spring  brigade,  utterly  worn  out  with  his  la- 


1852 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


39 


bours.  Father  Bourassa,  left  there  in  charge,  in- 
tended to  return  in  the  following  spring.  Bishop 
Provencher  was  at  his  wits’  end  to  find  a successor  for 
these  men — when  Bishop  Tache  arrived  with  his  un- 
announced companion. 

As  the  old  Bishop’s  eyes  fell  upon  the  robust  young 
missionary  he  felt  that  there  was  the  man  for  whom 
he  looked.  Providence  had  been  obviously  kind. 
When  he  talked  with  his  coadjutor  the  difficulty  of 
the  novitiate  arose.  Still  the  very  night  the  party 
arrived  Bishop  Provencher  called  Father  Lacombe 
to  his  room  and  taking  the  young  man’s  hands  in  his 
own,  he  appealed  to  him  to  renounce  his  year  of  novi- 
tiate and  to  go  at  once  into  the  mission-field.  At  the 
close  of  his  plea  Father  Lacombe  recalling  his  Pem- 
bina experience  urged  his  need  of  belonging  to  a re- 
ligious Order. 

“But  what  is  to  become  of  the  mission  to  these 
people?  Would  you  see  it  abandoned?”  the  bishop 
still  pleaded.  “I  pray  you  grant  me  what  I ask,”  he 
insisted  humbly  but  powerfully. 

The  knowledge  of  this  old  man’s  sacrifice  in  1818 
when  Lord  Selkirk’s  appeal  first  brought  him  West 
lent  force  to  his  plea;  while  the  intensity  and  humility 
of  the  enfeebled  prelate  moved  Father  Lacombe  to 
the  quick.  He  asked  to  be  given  the  night  to  con- 
sider what  he  should  do.  The  next  morning  he  came 
to  the  bishop  and  slipping  to  his  knees  at  the  feet  of 
the  old  man,  yielded  his  own  wishes.  “My  Lord,  I 
cannot  resist  any  longer.  I consent  to  do  what  you 


40 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1852 


desire  and  will  leave  it  all  in  the  hands  of  your  co- 
adjutor, my  superior.” 

In  this  way  Father  Lacombe  came  to  be  assigned 
to  the  Edmonton  district,  and  with  Father  Grollier,  a 
recent  volunteer  from  France,  he  soon  left  for  his 
post.  Early  in  July,  with  the  cathedral  chimes  ring- 
ing a parting  salute,  the  party  for  the  North  took 
leave  of  St.  Boniface.  They  parted  on  the  banks  of 
the  Red  River  with  the  noble  Provencher,  who  was  in 
a few  months  to  pass  into  Eternity. 

At  Cumberland  House  Father  Lacombe  continued 
west  in  company  with  Chief  Factor  Rowand,  who 
ruled  as  governor  over  a district  that  ran  from  Cum- 
berland House  to  the  Rockies.  This  man,  who  was 
the  most  notable  of  the  Company’s  officials  on  the 
plains  then,  was  an  Irishman,  a little  man  with  eyes 
of  blue  steel,  an  incomparable  temper  and  a spirit 
that  did  not  know  what  fear  was.  He  was  intellec- 
tually bright,  the  master  of  several  Indian  dialects 
and  could  terrorize  an  Indian  in  any  of  them. 

The  journey  was  made  all  day  long  in  the  open, 
in  the  superb  weather  of  the  western  summer  with 
crystal  clear  airs  and  radiant  sunshine.  There  were 
no  mosquitoes,  and  no  serious  sickness  among  the  men, 
of  whom  there  were  about  eighty  engaged  in  hauling 
the  ten  York  boats  up  the  river. 

At  night  the  boatmen  camped  a la  belle  etoile , but 
with  no  eyes  for  the  beauty  of  the  night  after  their 
slavish  toil  in  the  leather  harness  all  day.  Daylight 


1852 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


41 


lingers  long  on  the  Saskatchewan,  and  it  was  used  to 
the  full  for  these  trips. 

The  young  priest’s  heart  ached  for  the  boatmen. 
. . . This  then  was  the  reality  of  life  for  the  dash- 

ing voyageurs  who  had  left  Quebec  parishes  with  such 
fine  hopes  of  western  freedom!  The  canoes  had  been 
done  away  with,  the  drudgery  of  these  stout  capa- 
cious boats  was  their  lot — “Faugh!  it  was  to  be  as  the 
slaves  in  Africa,”  he  said  to  himself;  and  even  after 
fifty  years  had  passed  Father  Lacombe  spoke  of  the 
“tracking”  of  the  mid-century  days  as  a painful  mem- 
ory. 

The  men  lived  on  pounded  meat,  pemmican,  and 
water;  they  rarely  knew  the  luxury  of  tea.  Father 
Lacombe,  however,  ate  his  meals  with  John  Rowand 
and  his  clerks  and  they  had  better  fare — with  tea 
and  sugar  and  the  finer  pemmican  made  for  the  Gen- 
tlemen, together  with  choice  bits  of  whatever  game 
was  killed  along  the  way.  All  day  they  sat  at  their 
ease  or  walked  leisurely  along  the  banks  before  the 
plodding  trackmen,  and  at  night  they  slept  under 
tents  if  they  desired. 

Of  the  boatmen’s  toil,  Father  Lacombe  has  written: 

“Imagine,  if  you  please,  after  resting  a few  hours 
on  the  bare  earth,  to  hear  at  three  o’clock  the  cry, 
‘Level  Level 9 Et  puis , hurrah — to  pull  and  pull 
on  the  lines  drawing  the  heavy  boat  up  against  the 
current,  walking  in  the  mud,  the  rocks,  the  swamp, 
along  cliffs  and  sometimes  in  water  to  their  arm  pits 


42 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1852 


— and  this  under  a burning  sun  or  beating  rain  from 
early  morning  until  darkness  fell  about  nine  o’clock. 
Without  having  seen  it  one  can  form  no  idea  of  the 
hardships,  the  cruel  fatigues  of  these  boatmen.” 

One  of  the  men  became  sick  during  the  trip. 
Father  Lacombe  1 pitying  him  as  he  stumbled  along 
in  the  tracking-harness  went  to  Rowand  and  asked 
leave  for  this  man  to  rest  a few  days  as  well  as  to 
share  the  food  of  their  table. 

The  Chief  Factor  was  equally  astonished  at  the 
young  missionary’s  interference  with  any  system  of 
the  Company  and  at  the  boatmen’s  daring  to  confess 
illness.  But  Father  Lacombe  was  insistent,  and  for 
a wonder  Rowand  gave  way  somewhat. 

“Give  him  some  of  your  food  if  you  must,”  he  said, 
“but  he  needs  no  rest.  Any  man  who  is  not  dead 
with  three  days’  illness  is  not  sick  at  all.” 

Father  Lacombe  grieved  inwardly,  and  the  incident 
made  a strong  impression  on  him ; so  strong  that  when 
they  had  arrived  at  Edmonton  House  and  Rowand 
came  showing  him  a very  painful  felon  on  his  finger, 
Father  Lacombe  did  what  he  could  for  him,  but  told 
him  pointedly:  “You  are  not  suffering,  Rowand!” 
Three  days  later  while  the  Chief  Factor  still  suf- 
fered Father  Lacombe  went  to  him  with  a purpose. 

“I  had  to  say  what  was  in  my  mind,”  he  says, 
“though  I feared  trouble  might  come  of  it.  I had  to 

i John  Norris  of  Edmonton,  who  was  one  of  the  1853  brigade,  could 
recall  for  me  almost  sixty  years  later  the  pleasant  ways  and  sympathy 
of  the  new  missionary  with  the  crew. 


1852 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


T3 


touch  that  man  of  Iron.  I went  to  him  and  said — 
not  that  I was  sorry,  but — ‘You  will  understand  what 
I mean,  my  friend,  when  I tell  you  that  you  are  not 
sick.  Three  days  have  passed  now,  and  you  are  not 
dead.  So  of  course  you  are  not  sick;  it  is  all  imagi- 
nation.’ 

“His  face  took  on  an  awful  cloud.  If  I had  not 
been  his  friend  and  a priest,  I believe  he  would  have 
struck  me.  Hah!  he  was  like  a can  of  powder — that 
little  man!” 

On  September  19th,  as  the  boatmen  sprang  up 
from  their  earth-beds  and  blankets  at  dawn  everyone 
was  conscious  of  a new  spirit  abroad  in  the  camp. 
The  boatmen  appeared  newly  resplendent  in  red- 
woolen  shirts  with  fresh  kerchiefs  binding  their  heads 
and  knotted  tartanwise  over  their  left  shoulder.  They 
had  reached  the  home-lap;  they  felt  the  atmosphere, 
and  fatigue  was  forgotten,  while  they  pulled  up  past 
the  unsuspected  bar  of  gold-bearing  sand  that  would 
lay  hidden  until  Tom  Clover  should  come  over  the 
mountains  with  his  grizzly  and  gold-pan;  past  the 
shrubby  flats  and  up  between  the  high  green  banks 
to  the  landing  below  the  Fort. 

Against  the  clear  autumn  sky  there  furled  and 
unfurled  there  the  conquering  flag  of  England  with 
the  magic  letters — “H.  B.  C.” — long  ago  interpreted 
by  some  wit  in  the  service  as  “Here  before  Christ.” 
Above  the  timber  palisade  on  the  hilltop  the  deep- 
sloping  roof  of  the  Big  House  marked  the  woodland 
court  of  this  fiery  little  Governor. 


44 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


185£ 


For  days  a keen  look-out  had  been  kept  for  the 
packet  and  now  at  the  first  sight  of  the  boats  swinging 
around  the  green  headland  to  the  east  the  news  was 
trumpeted  through  the  courtyard  and  ran  from  house 
to  house.  The  steward  hastened  to  run  the  ensign 
up;  another  made  the  cannons  ready  for  the  salute, 
and  the  inhabitants  of  the  Fort  flocked  down  the 
winding  path  to  the  river,  for  this  was  the  greatest 
event  of  the  year  at  Edmonton  House. 

The  shore  was  soon  lined  with  people:  Harriot  the 
trader  who  had  married  Nancy  Rowand,  Sophy  and 
Peggy  and  Adelaide  Rowand  eager  to  welcome  their 
father  home,  clerks  from  the  trading-shop,  women 
and  children  from  the  men’s  quarters  and  Indians 
from  neighbouring  tepees. 

On  the  barge  allege  ( Ogimaw-osie ) in  which  Row- 
and and  Father  Lacombe  sat  the  pennant  of  the  Com- 
pany flew  at  the  prow,  and  behind  this  came  the  other 
boats  racing  to  be  first,  as  with  gay  halloos  and 
snatches  of  Canadian  songs  each  man  strove  in  the 
eyes  of  his  home-folk  to  be  the  first  to  leap  ashore. 
“En  roulant  ma  boule . . . . Hon! — hon! — hon!” 

the  snatches  of  Canadian  boat-songs  rose,  with 
through  them  the  wildly  sweet  chant  of  the  ancient 
Algonquin  canoe-song  of  the  voyageurs: 

“Moniang  nind  onjiba 

Mondamineh  niji  hasorvin,  . . 

The  cannons  in  the  bastions  thundered  a welcome 
when  the  Chief  Factor  stepped  ashore,  and  the  echoes 


1852 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


45 


were  multiplied  by  the  quick  fire  of  the  Indians’  mus- 
ketry. Rowand  was  pleasantly  assailed  with  greet- 
ing as  he  passed  up  the  steep  hill-path  through  the 
crowd,  for  however  peppery  and  dominating  their 
“Governor”  was  at  times  he  had  a very  warm  heart, 
loved  and  was  loved  by  his  people. 

The  young  missionary  walking  beside  him  felt  him- 
self an  object  of  vivid  curiosity  on  the  part  of  the 
crowd,  which  in  turn  he  scanned  with  interest  as  he 
returned  their  hearty  hand-clasps.  The  boatmen, 
promptly  seized  upon  by  their  relatives  and  friends, 
retailed  the  news  of  the  distant  forts  while  with  the 
mellowed  radiance  of  the  evening  sun  a great  serenity 
fell  upon  the  woodland  community. 

For  each  white  man  there  was  hope  of  some  home- 
message  in  the  packet  of  mail  being  sorted  at  the  Big 
House,  and  for  all  there  was  the  knowledge  that  these 
boats  drawn  up  on  the  shore  had  arrived  safely  with 
tobacco  and  ammunition  and  goods  for  another  year. 


y 


Now  at  Fort  Edmonton,  the  most  important  post 
west  of  Norway  House,  Father  Lacombe  found  him- 
self fully  embarked  upon  his  life  work,  master  of  his 
own  actions,  thrown  on  his  own  resources  and  initi- 
ative as  he  desired  to  be. 

After  journeying  to  Lac  Ste.  Anne  to  greet  Father 
Bourassa,  he  set  about  finding  a home  for  himself  for 
the  winter.  The  Chief  Factor  came  to  his  assistance 
by  lending  him  one  of  the  buildings  within  the  pal- 
isades, situated  directly  east  of  the  river-gateway.  It 
served  him  for  both  chapel  and  residence. 

The  F ort  itself  was  at  first  a daily  source  of  wonder 
and  interest  to  the  newcomer.  It  was  like  some  rude 
baronial  stronghold  in  the  feudal  ages  of  the  Old 
World,  with  the  liege’s  hall  and  retainers’  cottages  all 
safely  enclosed  within  high  palisades  surmounted  by 
guns.  The  palisade,  twenty  feet  in  height,  was  of 
stout  trees  split  in  halves  and  driven  into  the  ground 
— the  whole  strengthened  by  binding  timbers. 
Around  this,  compassing  the  entire  Fort  the  senti- 
nel’s gallery  ran,  and  at  the  four  corners  the  peaked 
roofs  of  bastions  rose,  with  the  iron  mouths  of  can- 
nons filling  the  port-holes. 

Massive  riveted  gates  to  which  the  steward  alone 
held  the  keys  gave  entrance  on  each  side  to  the  court- 

46 


1852 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


47 


yard  which  Palliser  estimated  as  three  hundred  feet 
long  by  two  hundred  and  ten  wide.  In  the  middle 
of  the  palisaded  enclosure  the  Big  House  stood,  and 
on  the  grassy  plot  in  front  of  it  two  small  brass  can- 
nons mounted  guard.  This  official  residence  of  the 
Chief  Factor  was  a massive  building  of  squared  tim- 
ber, about  seventy  feet  deep  and  sixty  wide,  three 
stories  high  and  with  a gallery  opening  from  the  sec- 
ond story  in  front  and  rear. 

From  this  front  gallery  a high  stairway  led  down  to 
the  grassy  courtyard,  about  which  the  Bachelors’  Hall 
or  Gentlemen’s  quarters,  the  Indian  Hall,  the  men’s 
quarters  and  warehouses  were  ranged.  Within  the 
Big  House  this  stairway  opened  upon  a wide  hall, 
on  either  side  of  which  lay  two  immense  rooms,  the 
Gentlemen’s  mess-room  and  the  ball-room.  Behind 
these  were  the  living-rooms  of  Rowand’s  family.  Be- 
low stairs  were  the  steward’s  office,  the  armory,  store- 
rooms, and  cellars ; above,  were  offices  and  bed-rooms. 

This  was  Rowand’s  Folly,  as  the  Gentlemen  Ad- 
venturers were  wont  to  call  the  most  pretentious  house 
of  the  Company  west  of  York  Factory.  It  had  al- 
ready stood  about  thirty  years,  being  built  by  Chief 
Factor  Rowand  after  the  Union,  when  he  was  given 
control  of  the  united  trading-posts  of  the  Beaver  dis- 
trict. 

Fort  Edmonton,  established  first  in  1795,  had  al- 
ready become  the  chief  point  of  the  Company’s  occu- 
pation on  the  plains,  and  in  a few  years  when  the 
Portage  la  Loche  route  was  abandoned  it  was  to 


48 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


185^ 


eclipse  utterly  the  glories  of  old  Fort  Chipewyan  in 
the  North  and  become  the  most  important  post  west 
of  Fort  Garry. 

The  resident  population  of  the  post  in  that  winter 
of  1852  was  close  to  150 — for  the  boatmen  had  come 
in  to  winter-quarters  at  the  Post,  where  already  were 
the  Gentlemen,  the  stewart,  the  interpreter,  boat- 
builders,  coopers,  carpenters,  hunters,  blacksmiths 
and  their  families.  The  boatmen  were  now  variously 
employed  as  labourers,  cutting  and  hauling  firewood 
of  which  immense  quantities  were  used  in  the  wide 
earthen  fireplaces;  searching  for  hemlock  or  spruce 
hark  to  recover  the  roofs  of  their  dwellings;  repairing 
roofs  and  sills;  rechinking  log  walls  and  securing 
further  provisions  of  buffalo-meat  and  fish. 

A post  of  such  importance  was  consequently  a 
rather  pleasant  place  for  a new  missionary  to  find 
himself  quartered.  Its  palisaded  quadrangle  was  a 
woodland  principality  which  held  intensified  cheer 
from  the  very  isolation  of  its  environments. 

The  winters  were  cold  but  the  fireplaces  were  deep, 
the  piles  of  spruce  and  aspen  high  and  the  log-houses 
warm.  There  were  seasons  each  year  when  provisions 
ran  so  low  that  even  with  lessened  rations  there  was 
no  certainty  of  to-morrow’s  fast  being  broken,  but 
equally  there  were  the  seasons  of  plenty,  and  with  the 
exception  of  a couple  of  years  when  a colony  of  ob- 
streperous Norwegian  boatmen  were  brought  in  (and 
had  to  be  packed  back  to  their  native  shores),  the 
Orkneymen,  French-Canadians,  and  Metis  who  filled 


Plan  or  Fort  Lomonttqn  thc  Sixi 


**  JSklX^klSJuflJachwW.n.a.n  I f, 


1852 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


W 


the  post  were  a harmonious,  if  rugged  group  of 
men. 

Father  Lacombe  was  to  experience  hardships  and 
some  starvation  in  years  close  at  hand — to  live  as 
Father  Thibault  did  first  at  Lac  Ste.  Anne,  without 
bread,  milk,  sugar,  salt  and  sometimes  without  tea. 
He  was  to  learn  what  it  meant  to  struggle  against 
repugnance  and  to  conquer  “false  delicacy  of  appe- 
tite”— forcing  himself  to  eat  unsavoury  and  inde- 
scribable morsels  served  on  a piece  of  bark  or  in  his 
fingers,  that  he  might  not  wound  the  Indians’  feelings 
or  lose  their  confidence.  In  his  own  words: 

“Conquered  by  Hunger,  we  could  learn  to  consume 
these  victuals  without  much  repugnance,  for  under 
the  empire  of  this  cruel  stepmother  the  world  becomes 
savage.” 

But  for  this  first  year  on  the  Saskatchewan  he  fared 
well,  physically  and  mentally.  He  dined  always  at 
the  mess-room  in  the  Big  House,  where  according  to 
the  semi-military  discipline  of  the  Gentlemen  no 
women  ate,  and  the  meals  served  by  Robidoux,  a chef 
from  Montreal,  were  excellent. 

Before  settling  down  for  the  winter  Father 
Lacombe  paid  a visit  to  Lac  la  Biche,  an  Indian  cen- 
tre 150  miles  northeast  of  the  Fort.  This  point  had 
been  visited  by  Father  Thibault  but  as  yet  had  no 
permanent  mission.  The  trip  was  made  in  the  pleas- 
ant autumn  weather  when  the  men  were  coming  in 
from  the  plains  and  from  the  lakes  with  flat-sleighs 
laden  with  dried  meat  and  fish  and  ducks. 


50 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1852 


Alexis  Cardinal,  a half-breed  who  was  to  share 
many  perilous  trips  with  the  young  missionary,  went 
with  him  as  guide.  The  two  travelled  happily  all  day 
in  the  golden  autumn  weather  by  hills  and  plain  and 
woodland.  Pitching  their  camp  at  night  they  en- 
joyed a supper  of  game,  for  Alexis  was  already  a 
famous  hunter  and  dog-runner — then  before  dropping 
off  to  sleep  under  the  stars  they  sat  about  the  fire 
and  silently  enjoyed  a pipe  “of  particularly  fine  fla- 
vour smoked  a longues  touches” 

Fifteen  days  were  passed  at  the  Lake  in  teaching 
the  Indians,  but  the  priest  found  himself  so  handi- 
capped by  his  slim  knowledge  of  Cree  that  he  re- 
turned to  Edmonton  resolved  anew  to  master  Cree — 
“or  to  blow  my  head  off,”  as  he  picturesquely  phrases 
his  determination.  Before  leaving  the  mission,  how- 
ever, he  put  on  his  white  surplice  and  stole  and  mount- 
ing his  pony  rode  along  the  shore  of  the  lake  blessing 
the  site  of  the  present  mission  and  dedicating  it  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  the  liege-lady  of  these  black-robed 
knights  of  Christ. 

On  his  return  to  Edmonton  he  easily  fitted  his  min- 
istry into  the  life  of  the  post.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
Fort  from  Rowand  down  to  the  youngest  dog-runner 
were  mostly  Catholic,  and  he  busied  himself  instruct- 
ing young  and  old  daily.  On  Sunday  he  tried  to 
impress  the  Sabbath  feeling  by  making  the  Mass  as 
solemn  as  possible,  and  to  this  end  taught  the  French- 
Canadians  to  sing  the  liturgy  of  the  Mass.  Several 


1853 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


51 


hours  each  day  were  given  to  the  study  of  Cree,  which 
he  describes  as  a delightful  occupation. 

His  master  was  an  amiable  Scotch  clerk  who  had 
recently  come  in  from  Jasper  House,  where  in  1845 
his  wife  had  been  baptized  by  Father  de  Smet.  This 
man,  Colin  Fraser,  had  been  the  piper  of  Governor 
Simpson  on  the  latter’s  princely  tour  of  the  West,  and 
it  is  told  of  him  with  as  much  grim  truth  as  humour, 
that  when  stationed  at  the  lonely  post  of  Jasper  he 
used  to  take  down  his  pipes  at  night  and  dance  to 
their  wild  skirl  before  his  own  shadow  on  the  wall. 

Fraser  enjoyed  his  work  of  tutoring  the  vivid  mind 
of  the  younger  man  night  after  night,  for  Father  La- 
combe  made  marvellous  progress.  He  ended  each 
day  by  jotting  down  in  an  improvised  notebook  all 
the  Cree  words  and  rules  of  grammar  he  had  learned. 
This*  became  later  the  backbone  of  his  dictionary. 

The  days  passed  as  pleasantly  as  profitably,  for 
while  Father  Lacombe  instructed  his  people  and  felt 
himself  advancing  daily  in  Cree,  he  was  also  enjoying 
the  good  company  of  the  Gentlemen  in  the  Company’s 
service.  Many  stories  were  told  him  by  the  men  in 
the  Fort  that  winter — wild  tales  of  the  days  of  rivalry 
and  plunder  between  rival  fur-companies  and  exciting 
stories  of  the  hunt. 

As  is  the  case  with  all  discerning  missionaries, 
Father  Lacombe  directed  his  efforts  mainly  to 
instructing  the  younger  members  of  his  flock.  But 
he  brought  some  adults  into  the  Christian  faith  even 


52 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1853 


in  his  first  season,  and  in  one  instance  the  conversion 
made  a stir. 

The  bully  of  Fort  Edmonton  at  that  period  was  a 
Metis  named  Paulet  Paul,  a huge,  wild,  dark  fellow 
noted  as  a fighter.  On  Father  Lacombe’s  arrival 
Paulet  treated  the  young  priest  with  vaunted  indiffer- 
ence, something,  too,  of  the  Indian  contempt  for  a 
youth  who  had  not  yet  won  a name  or  recognition. 
But  by  degrees  he  condescended  to  smoke  a pipe  with 
him  and  other  rugged  Metis  who  visited  the  mission- 
ary. 

At  the  beginning  of  Lent  he  dropped  into  Father 
Lacombe’s  little  house  suddenly  one  evening  and  asked 
to  be  made  a Christian.  Every  day  then  for  weeks 
he  received  especial  instruction  preparatory  to  his  re- 
ception. A week  before  the  feast  he  told  Father  La- 
combe  he  was  going  to  fast  until  Easter,  but  as  he 
was  working  hard  daily  and  absolutely  the  only  food 
the  men  had  then  was  dried  meat  and  fish,  Father 
Lacombe  advised  him  not  to  limit  his  rations.  But 
the  converted  bully  persisted. 

On  Good  Friday  he  looked  so  weak  that  Father  La- 
combe protested  he  was  making  himself  ill.  His  sym- 
pathy was  brushed  aside  by  Paulet: 

“No,  I only  fast;  I will  not  eat  nor  drink  until  Sun- 
day.” 

This  was  the  penance  Paulet  had  imposed  upon 
himself  for  past  sins;  no  sacrifice  of  an  extra  bite 
or  special  dainty,  but  a fast  as  entire  as  that  of  a man 


1853 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


53 


lost  in  a desert.  He  maintained  this  until  Sunday. 
On  that  day  Paulet  was  given  a seat  alone  near  the 
altar.  Chief  Factor  Rowand  and  his  daughter  Ade- 
laide sat  near  him  and  were  his  sponsors  in  baptism. 

Paulet  as  a Christian  was  an  improvement  upon 
Paulet  the  bully,  and  the  Factor  noted  it.  Conse- 
quently toward  the  close  of  the  following  winter  when 
Rowand  sent  a small  party  of  men  with  dog-trains  of 
goods  out  to  meet  an  Indian  band  on  the  plains  to 
trade  for  dried  meat  and  furs  Paulet  was  for  once 
permitted  to  go  in  charge : as  he  very  much  desired. 

Father  Lacombe,  then  established  at  Ste.  Anne, 
happened  to  be  at  the  Fort  on  the  day  of  their  return. 
Paulet’s  companions  came  in  without  him,  and  one 
explained  eagerly  to  the  priest  that  his  protege  had 
made  a fool  of  himself. 

“Paulet,”  said  this  Metis,  “has  made  lots  of  mis- 
chief out  there  with  the  Indians.  The  Indians  said 
he  put  too  much  water  into  the  rum,  but  he  gave  big 
presents  of  goods.  He  made  a great  man  of  Paulet 
at  last — but  he  got  poor  bargains  for  the  Company.” 
“Hein”  thought  Father  Lacombe,  “there  is  trouble 
ahead.”  He  knew  Rowand. 

This  is  what  he  tells  of  the  outcome  in  his  own 
picturesque  “English  of  the  Nor’-West.” 

“By  and  bye  I met  Rowand,  and  he  say  to  me  blus- 
tering— ‘Well,  that  man  of  yours,  that  Paulet  you 
baptize  last  year  and  recommend  to  me  as  a good  man, 
he  made  a damfool  of  himself.’ 


54* 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1853 


“I  answer  nothing:  I do  not  know  what  to  say. 
But  I watch  out  by  the  river  until  I see  Paulet  come 
with  his  toboggan  and  dog. 

“ ‘Hey,  Paulet/  I say,  ‘what  have  you  done? 
Rowand  will  make  trouble  for  you.5 

“He  speak  bravely — ‘Ha!  that  is  all  humbug  that 
the  men  say.  You  will  see/ 

“But  the  big  fellow  look  afraid.  Then — quick!  an 
idea  came  to  me. 

“ ‘Paulet/  I say,  ‘I  know  what  to  do.  You  will 
go  to  Rowand  and  right  at  once  you  will  ask  him 
for  his  blessing  as  a god-father.  (That  is  a fashion 
of  the  Metis  on  great  occasions.)  Go!5 

“And  I laugh  as  I remember  what  Rowand  said, 
and  I hurried  to  be  with  him  when  Paulet  comes. 
By-and-by  while  I was  walking  up  and  down  with 
him  in  the  great  Hall  of  the  Big  House,  we  hear 
somebody  at  the  door.  Suddenly  Paulet  came  in  and 
at  once  fell  on  his  knees  to  Rowand. 

“ ‘My  god-father/  he  pray,  ‘give  me  your  blessing.5 

“Now  Rowand  was  look  surprise  and  shy,  for 
though  he  consent  when  I coax  him  to  be  Paulet’s 
god-father,  he  was  not  a very  religious  man. 

At  last  he  say,  ‘Here  is  the  Father;  ask  his  blessing.5 

“I  was  trying  not  to  laugh,  but  I get  voice  to  say, 

“ ‘No,  no;  this  is  not  my  affair.  It  is  yours.  He 
is  not  my  god-child — give  him  your  blessing.5 

“Now,  John  Rowand  had  a good  heart  behind  his 
temper,  and  he  could  enjoy  Paulet’s  finesse.  . . . 

So  he  made  some  kind  of  a blessing — and  he  finish  it 


1853 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


55 


off  by  going  to  the  cupboard  to  get  a drink  of  rum 
for  Paulet!” 

Father  Lacombe  to  his  latest  years  loved  to  dwell 
upon  the  memory  of  this  man — “He  was  not  big;  in 
fae’  he  was  very  short,  but  he  was  brave,  that  little 
man,  you  know — brave  like  a lion.  He  feared  no 
man;  not  even  a whole  tribe  of  Indians  could  make 
him  afraid.” 

“Ah!  he  was  a grand  little  man.” 

The  camp-fires  of  the  Saskatchewan  still  hear  the 
echoes  of  that  tribute. 

Just  once  his  anger  fell  on  Father  Lacombe,  and 
the  latter  found  it  less  easy  than  in  Paulet’s  case  to 
turn  off  the  wrath  of  this  little  Napoleon  of  the 
North.  The  first  winter  he  spent  at  Ste.  Anne  he 
found  a couple  of  muskrat  skins  at  the  mission  left 
by  an  Indian,  as  they  had  been  trapped  out  of  season 
and  were  consequently  of  little  value  as  fur  for  trad- 
ing. For  this  reason  Father  Lacombe  felt  their  use 
would  be  no  infringement  upon  the  Company’s  rigid 
command  that  no  employe  or  other  white  man  allowed 
in  the  country  should  trap  furs  or  get  them  in  trade 
for  any  other  purpose  than  the  Company’s  benefit. 

Father  Lacombe  took  the  skins  to  the  wife  of  the 
half-breed  servant  at  the  Mission  and  had  her  dress 
the  skin  and  sew  strips  of  it  on  the  collar  and  cuffs 
of  his  overcoat  to  protect  him  from  the  cold.  One 
day,  entering  the  Big  House  at  Edmonton,  he  went 
at  once  to  greet  his  friend  the  Chief  Factor  in  his 
office. 


56 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


185S 


Rowand,  at  the  first  glimpse  of  the  priest  and  his 
fur-trimmed  coat,  grew  furious.  Without  replying 
to  the  genial  greeting  he  bellowed  at  him, 

“What!  you  priest,  you!  You  say  you  have  come 
here  to  teach  what  is  right.  . . . And  this  is  the 

way  you  give  the  example ! Who  gave  you  the  right 
to  wear  that  fur?” 

He  had  given  the  astonished  young  priest  no  chance 
to  make  explanations ; the  latter  gave  him  no  time  to 
withdraw  his  hasty  speech. 

“I  tore  off  those  miserable  skins  from  my  wrists,” 
he  says,  “and  I flung  them  in  his  face.” 

Then  he  wheeled  about  and  left  the  room  . . . 

but  not  before  he  had  learned  what  Rowand  meant 
when  he  said,  “It  is  true  we  know  only  two  powers — 
God  and  the  Company!”  One  only  marvels  at  the 
facility  with  which  they  made  the  laws  of  God  con- 
form to  those  of  the  Company. 

“This  incident,”  wrote  Father  Lacombe  in  his 
Memoirs,  “like  many  others  our  missionaries  experi- 
enced, evidences  the  spirit  of  the  Company — noble, 
loved,  liberal  and  kind  to  us,  just  in  as  far  as  the  ques- 
tion of  fur-trading  did  not  enter  into  the  game.  So 
for  the  sake  of  our  missionary  work  we  had  to  be  very 
prudent  and  watchful  to  do  nothing  that  would  com- 
promise our  interests. 

“We  had  to  suffer  with  patience  and  endure  for 
the  moment  what  we  could  not  prevent,  however  un- 
just the  affair  might  appear.  The  first  missionaries 
were  exceedingly  poor  and  had  little  assistance  from 


1853 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


57 


their  superiors,  who  for  their  part  had  few  resources 
at  their  disposition.  The  Society  of  the  Propagation 
of  the  Faith  was  far  from  being  able  to  assist  us  then 
as  it  did  later ; moreover  our  means  of  transport  were 
practically  nil.  We  depended  entirely  upon  the 
good-will  of  this  good  Company  to  go  from  one  post 
to  another  and  to  convey  thither  our  small  luggage. 

“The  chief  officers,  few  of  whom  were  Catholic, 
sometimes  looked  on  our  arrival  and  our  work  with  a 
jealous  eye.  In  addition  to  this  they  felt  that  their 
policy  was  being  interfered  with — that  policy  of  pre- 
venting the  entrance  of  civilization  and  of  retaining 
the  ancien  regime . We  were  received  and  tolerated, 
but  it  was  because  they  could  not  do  otherwise. 

“Still,”  he  writes,  summing  up  the  memory  of  those 
years,  “considering  our  position,  the  conditions  of  the 
country  and  the  ideas  and  principles  of  this  Company 
— -I  venture  to  say  that  we  have  been  honorably  and 
charitably  treated  by  the  Company.” 

And  elsewhere  he  writes:  “I  repeat  what  I have 
said  many  times,  that  if  we  had  not  had  the  aid  and 
the  hospitality  of  the  Hudson’s  Bay  Company,  we 
could  not  have  for  a long  time  begun  or  carried  out 
the  establishment  of  the  young  Church  of  the  North- 
west.” He  makes  particular  reference  to  the  debt 
of  gratitude  he  personally  owes  to  his  first  friend  in 
the  Company,  John  Rowand,  to  William  Christie 
and  Richard  Hardisty. 

From  this  it  will  be  seen  that  Father  Lacombe  and 
his  fellow- workers  understood  clearly  the  terms  on 


58 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1856 


which  they  were  privileged  to  enter  the  country  by 
its  masters,  the  Gentlemen  Adventurers.  They  were 
welcomed — sometimes  only  tolerated — because  they 
did  not  go  in  as  money-makers,  but  as  ministers  of 
the  Gospel,  intent  upon  laying  the  first  foundations 
of  a moral  civilization.  Nor  did  they  dare  discuss  the 
ethics  of  the  fur- trade  or  the  attitude  of  the  traders 
to  the  Indians.  This  last,  however,  was  ordinarily 
very  kind. 

Father  Lacombe  had  an  instance  of  this  as  his  first 
winter  in  Edmonton  .House  drew  to  a close.  An 
Indian  woman  hailing  from  the  plains  with  her  peo- 
ple came  to  him  mourning  that  her  husband  had  died 
during  the  winter-hunt,  that  she  had  little  or  no  fur 
and  her  husband  owed  a large  debt  to  the  Company. 
She  had  only  a few  ponies  to  meet  this  debt  and  she 
asked  Father  Lacombe  to  speak  for  herself  and  her 
children  to  the  Chief  Factor. 

He  went  to  Rowand  and  the  latter  turned  over  his 
books.  The  debt  was  close  on  to  3,000  skins — beaver- 
skins,  not  dollars  or  pounds  sterling,  being  the  cur- 
rency of  this  fur-trader’s  land. 

“Now,  who  will  pay  that?”  demanded  Rowand  of 
the  priest  with  mock  fierceness.  “Bien,  hurrah ! 

. . .”  and  he  ran  his  quill  pen  through  the  account. 

The  honourable  Company  of  the  Gentlemen  Ad- 
venturers of  England  trading  into  the  Hudson’s  Bay 
could  not  hold  a mortgage  upon  the  future  of  a poor 
widow  and  her  children! 


VI 


March  blew  a reveille  over  the  bleak  hills,  waking 
the  rivers  to  music  and  stirring  the  myriad  forces  of 
the  woods.  The  Indians  began  to  come  in  from  the 
winter-hunt,  Father  I. .acorn be  looking  on  with  lively 
interest  at  this  newest  phase  of  life  in  the  Far  West. 

The  Strongwood  and  Plains  Crees  traded  at 
Edmonton  House  all  the  year  round,  but  once  or 
twice  a year  in  spring  or  autumn  the  Blackfeet  and 
their  Blood  and  Piegan  allies  came  to  trade  in  large 
numbers : they  rarely  travelled  in  small  bands  in  their 
enemies’  country. 

When  they  came  riding  up  to  the  Fort  their  bar- 
baric cavalcades  were  always  picturesque.  Half- 
naked  supple  bronze  warriors  rode  by  startlingly 
painted,  bearing  skin  shields  on  their  arms,  full 
quivers  at  their  sides,  and  eagle-feathers  in  their  hair. 
Rugged  squaws  with  trains  of  lively  children  kept 
ward  over  the  primitive  lodge-equipment  tied  by 
thongs  to  the  travoix  behind  their  ponies.  Iron  ket- 
tles jangled  and  the  mongrel  half-fed  dogs  made  a 
running,  yelping  accompaniment  to  the  whole. 

This  they  were  when  near  at  hand  and  analyzed, 
but  seen  winding  down  the  bridle-trail  in  the  ravine 
on  the  south  bank,  with  the  sun  glittering  on  their 
brass  ornaments  and  the  small  flags  of  the  chiefs  flut- 

59 


60 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1853 


tering  peace  signals  in  the  van — the  Blackfeet  com- 
ing to  trade  at  Fort  Edmonton  offered  the  most 
picturesque  panorama  of  human  life  in  the  west. 

While  the  warriors  turned  their  ponies  loose  on  the 
meadows  about  the  Fort  and  strode  about  among  their 
brethren,  and  their  chiefs  brought  gifts  and  parleyed 
with  the  Chief  Factor,  their  dusky  womenkind  were 
at  work — and  a town  of  smoky  lodges  was  springing 
up  magically  on  the  hill  and  meadows  near  the  Fort. 
Then  trading  began.  In  those  days  the  Company 
still  employed  rum  in  their  trading,  and  they  sur- 
rounded their  dealings  with  precautions  sprung  from 
the  experience  of  savages  inflamed  with  liquor. 

So  although  the  chiefs  and  their  gifts  of  robes  and 
pemmican  were  received  in  the  Indian  Hall  by  Row- 
and,  the  trading  was  accomplished  through  a grating 
between  the  Indian  Hall  and  the  trading-shop.  On 
the  shelves  but  little  goods  were  displayed — on  the 
principle  that  the  Indian  would  not  want  what  he 
could  not  see.  All  the  gates  of  the  F ort  were  closed, 
except  one  to  the  Indian  Hall.  At  times  even 
this  was  closed  and  the  trading  done  through  a grat- 
ing in  the  gate. 

First  the  Indians  demanded  rum,  and  it  was  given 
to  them — rum  of  the  first  quality  carefully  diluted 
with  water.  The  Blackfeet  being  fiercer  than  the 
Crees  received  a weaker  cup  or  keg,  for  the  standard 
of  mixing  in  those  days  defined  seven  parts  of  water 
to  one  of  rum  for  Blackfeet  and  only  three  parts 
water  to  one  of  rum  for  the  Crees. 


1853 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


61 


After  a goodly  exchange  of  peltry  for  liquor  the 
orgies  began,  as  described  in  earlier  days  by  Father 
Thibault.  In  1852  they  had  in  no  way  altered,  and 
Father  Lacombe  was  the  witness  of  frightful  scenes 
“which  I deplored  but  could  in  no  way  prevent.” 
Meanwhile  there  were  men  stationed  with  loaded 
muskets  in  the  sentinel’s  gallery  that  surrounded  the 
palisade,  and  the  cannon  in  the  bastions  stood  ready 
for  action.  These  precautions  were  rigidly  preserved 
when  the  Blackfeet  came  to  trade,  for  they  had  burned 
down  the  Old  Bow  Fort  in  John  Rowand’s  time  and 
killed  white  men  on  several  occasions. 

When  the  snow  had  quite  disappeared  and  the 
renewed  delights  of  spring  tempted  him  afield,  Father 
Lacombe  took  many  long  walks  through  the  valley. 
On  one  of  these  excursions  he  came  upon  the  cross 
that  had  been  planted  there  with  so  much  solemnity 
by  Father  Demers  and  Father  Blanchet  in  1838.1 
The  cross  lay  on  the  top  of  the  hill  close  to  the  Fort. 
Father  Lacombe  lifted  it  up  from  the  ground  and 
replanted  it  firmly,  so  that  for  some  years  it  again 
lifted  its  arms  of  appeal. 

He  decided  now  to  make  his  headquarters  at  Lac 
Ste.  Anne,  as  his  predecessors  had  done;  meanwhile 
arranging  for  frequent  visits  to  Edmonton. 

Lac  Ste.  Anne,  fifty  miles  northwest  of  Edmon- 
ton, was  the  first  permanent  mission  for  Crees  and 

1 The  new  Parliament  Buildings  at  Edmonton  are  built  directly  over 
the  site  of  the  old  Cross  erected  here  by  Father  Demers  and  his  com- 
panion on  their  way  to  the  Pacific  in  1838. 


62 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1854 


Cree-Metis  established  by  Father  Thibault  on  the 
Upper  Saskatchewan.  He  had  selected  this  place 
in  1842  because  the  soil  and  fishing  were  good  and 
there  was  an  abundance  of  fuel.  Being  remote  from 
the  Blackfoot  trail  to  the  Fort,  there  was  a further 
advantage  in  security  from  these  traditional  enemies 
of  the  Crees. 

Early  in  the  autumn  word  came  that  another 
Oblate,  Pere  Remas,  had  been  assigned  to  the  mis- 
sion at  Lac  la  Riche.  Father  Lacombe  set  out  on 
horseback  with  Alexis  to  visit  the  newcomer.  The 
lake  wTas  almost  200  miles  away  across  country,  but 
the  riding-trails  were  good,  and  this  journey  through 
the  woods  was  only  a delight  for  him. 

At  Lac  la  Biche  he  found  the  Indians  were  absent 
hunting  while  Father  Remas  was  altogether  miser- 
able. He  had  arrived  too  late  to  make  a garden,  and 
was  consequently  in  an  impoverished  state.  Father 
Lacombe,  distressed  at  his  condition,  insisted  that  he 
should  return  home  with  him  and  await  the  promised 
pastoral  visit  of  Bishop  Tache. 

The  latter  set  out  from  his  episcopal  hut  at  He  a 
la  Crosse  in  February,  1854.  The  ceremonial  recep- 
tion Rowand  planned  for  him  at  Edmonton  was  pre- 
vented by  his  arrival  very  late  at  night  on  March  22, 
but  the  next  morning  he  was  aroused  by  the  cannons’ 
thunder  of  welcome. 

This  was  the  first  visit  of  a Bishop  to  Edmonton 
House,  and  during  the  week  of  the  visitor’s  stay  the 
Fort  was  in  as  nearly  holiday  mood  as  a strong- 


1854 


FATHER  LACGMBE 


63 


hearted  disciplinarian  like  Rowand  would  permit. 
Personally  the  Chief  Factor  and  his  daughters  show- 
ered kind  attentions  upon  the  young  prelate. 

Then  he  was  escorted  in  his  dog-cariole  to  Ste. 
Anne,  where  for  three  weeks  Father  Lacombe  played 
the  part  of  host — a role  that  always  came  happily  to 
his  generous  nature.  At  Ste.  Anne  the  three  Oblates, 
dwelling  upon  the  Bishop’s  recent  experiences  at 
Fort  Pitt,  where  he  was  desolated  at  the  debauchery 
of  the  Indians  and  Metis  with  drink,  found  a great 
deal  of  consolation  in  the  conduct  of  the  excellent 
colony  at  Ste.  Anne. 

Yet  fifteen  years  earlier  these  Metis  had  been  like 
those  of  Pitt.  The  contrast  made  the  Bishop  resolve 
firmly  not  only  to  find  more  missionaries  for  perma- 
nent missions,  but  to  use  with  the  various  Chief 
Factors  and  the  Governor  at  F ort  Garry  every  effort 
possible  to  prevent  the  trading  of  liquor  to  the 
Indians.  This  soon  became  the  cry  of  every  mission- 
ary in  Rupert’s  Land,  but  it  was  only  six  years  later 
that  their  campaign  had  effect. 

During  the  Bishop’s  visit  to  Ste.  Anne  he  con- 
firmed 98  Indians  and  baptized  22  adults,  already 
instructed  by  Father  Lacombe,  and  who  gave  every 
evidence  of  a sincere  desire  to  live  in  accordance  with 
the  missionary’s  teachings.  On  Easter  Monday  the 
Bishop  took  his  leave  accompanied  by  the  two  mis- 
sionaries. 

Father  Lacombe,  loth  to  part  with  his  brethren, 
rode  on  beside  them  far  past  the  Fort.  When  he  said 


64 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1855 


adieu  it  was  with  heavy  hearts  they  saw  the  boyish 
figure  turn  his  cayuse  on  the  woodland  path,  and 
take  his  solitary  way  back  to  Ste.  Anne. 

While  Father  Lacombe  returned  to  his  own  post 
Bishop  Tache  journeyed  on  to  Father  Remas’  log- 
shack.  It  was  a miserable  abode,  twelve  feet#square 
and  six  high,  where  he  had  spent  several  miserable 
weeks  alone  in  1853  before  Father  Lacombe  had 
come  riding  like  a Fairy  Benevolent  and  carried  him 
off  to  Ste.  Anne. 

The  seats  of  the  mission  were  made  of  stumps  of 
trees;  its  other  meagre  fittings  were  in  accordance. 
Its  cupboard  was  painfully  slim.  But  here,  with  one 
year’s  experience  of  the  west  and  with  a plentiful 
supply  of  seed  for  a garden,  Father  Remas  was 
re-installed,  and  the  Bishop  rode  on. 

In  the  summer  of  1855  a stir  was  made  in  the 
Saskatchewan  mission-field  by  the  arrival  of  new 
workers  with  consequent  changes  of  position.  One 
of  the  newcomers  was  Vital  Grandin,  a handsome 
young  Breton  priest,  a delicate,  fair-haired  youth  who 
was  to  become  an  intimate  friend  of  Father  Lacombe 
in  later  years  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  striking- 
figures  among  the  pioneer  missionaries  of  the  west. 

In  the  late  summer  of  1855,  Father  Lacombe  made 
his  first  visit  to  the  Peace  River,  as  Father  Bourassa 
had  done  in  1845  and  Father  Thibault  still  earlier. 
He  went  on  horseback  to  the  Athabasca  near  the  old 
Fort  Assinaboine  and  then  proceeded  in  a small  row- 


Plan  of  Trading-Post  At  Lesser  Slave:  Lake  in  the  Firms. 


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66 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1856 


boat  down  that  river  to  the  Little  Slave  and  up  this 
to  Lesser  Slave  Lake. 

Along  the  south  shore  of  the  lake  he  came  upon 
a large  encampment  of  Crees,  drawn  there  at  that 
season  doubtless  by  the  hosts  of  ducks  and  wavies 
that  haunt  the  lake.  Father  La  combe  spent  several 
days  among  them  before  pushing  on  to  the  post,  where 
he  was  warmly  welcomed  by  his  former  teacher,  Colin 
Fraser,  now  in  charge  of  the  Company’s  post  here. 

The  post  was  built  on  the  hillside  that  slopes  gently 
up  from  the  lake,  with  the  Indian  Hall  outside  the 
stockade  and  some  distance  east  of  it. 

Colin  Fraser  supplied  his  friend  with  ponies  and 
guide  to  ride  to  Fort  Dunvegan,  the  Company’s 
headquarters  on  the  Peace.  It  was  over  160  miles 
away,  along  the  trappers’  trail  through  the  pleasant 
autumn  woods.  Bourassa,  the  officer  in  charge, 
received  Father  Lacombe  very  kindly  and  every 
opportunity  was  given  him  to  minister  to  the  em- 
ployes, who,  as  at  Edmonton,  were  largely  French- 
Canadian  and  Catholic. 

On  his  return  to  Ste.  Anne  he  at  once  entered  upon 
his  deferred  novitiate. 

When  the  prescribed  year  of  religious  seclusion  and 
prayer  was  concluded,  he  pronounced  his  vows  of  pov- 
erty, chastity  and  obedience,  as  a member  of  the 
Oblates  of  Mary  Immaculate. 

In  September  he  visited  the  Indians  of  Jasper 
House,1  the  most  interesting  of  these  being  a band 

1 Jasper  House,  which  was  named  after  Jasper  Hawes,  an  English 


1856 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


67 


of  Iriquois,  descendants  of  old  canoemen  from 
Caughnawaga. 

Father  Lacombe  set  out  with  two  pack-horses  car- 
rying his  portable  chapel  and  provisions,  and  saddle- 
ponies  for  himself  and  his  Metis  guide,  Michel 
Nipissing.  Fallen  timber,  creeks  and  swamps  tried 
the  horses’  strength  and  the  travellers’  patience. 

The  second  afternoon  on  the  trail,  as  they  made 
their  way  through  a haze  of  smoke,  the  wind  rose  and 
there  came  a crackling  like  thunder.  The  guide 
knew  what  it  meant:  a forest  fire  was  racing  to  meet 
them,  licking  up  and  snapping  the  dry  spruce  and 
fallen  timber  like  so  much  tinder. 

While  they  groped  their  way  painfully  in  search 
of  a river  the  smoke  settled  down  on  them  like  a pall. 

“It  is  only  to  die!”  Michel  cried.  Michel  was  not 
brave  as  was  the  redoubtable  Alexis.  But  Father 
Lacombe  cried  back  to  him : 

“Akai!  Courage!  The  river  is  near.  Akame- 
yimo r 

They  reached  its  banks,  made  the  horses  jump  in 
and  leaped  after  them.  They  threw  water  over  the 
trembling  animals  and  themselves  as  the  flames 
approached  and  rushed  past  them.  For  almost  two 
days  men  and  horses  stayed  in  a dugout  in  the  bank, 
while  the  bush  glowed  with  hot  embers  of  the  fire. 

officer  in  the  Hudson’s  Bay  Company  who  established  it  early  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  was  situated  on  the  Athabasca  River  where  it  emerges 
from  the  Rockies.  It  was  visited  by  P&re  de  Smet  on  his  heroic  trip  as 
Peacemaker  in  1845-46,  and  a summit,  six  miles  west  of  the  Fort,  was 
named  for  him. 


68 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1857 


After  two  days  more  of  painful  travelling,  the 
young  priest,  overcome  by  fatigue  and  fever,  declared 
he  could  go  no  further.  They  camped  on  the  bank 
of  a small  stream  that  evening,  and  when  Father 
Lacombe  refused  to  eat,  Michel  became  greatly  dis- 
tressed. His  fears  were  varied  and  he  came  to  the 
broken  man  with  a quaint  plea: 

“My  father,”  he  said,  “I  am  afraid  you  will  die 
here — then  what  will  become  of  me?  People  will  say 
I have  ill-treated  you — perhaps  killed  you.  Give 
me  a piece  of  paper  that  I can  show  Pere  Remas 
to  let  him  know  that  I have  been  good  to  you.” 
Father  Lacombe  gave  him  the  note  he  wanted,  and 
then  in  turn,  frightened  by  the  man’s  fear,  he  asked 
Michel  in  case  of  his  death  to  bury  him  under  a butte 
of  sand  near  by  and  go  at  once  to  Father  Remas  with 
the  news.  Perhaps  because  in  all  his  healthy  young 
life  before  Father  Lacombe  had  known  no  illness, 
he  was  unnecessarily  afraid  of  this.  However,  it  was 
to  his  own  intense  surprise  that  he  was  able  in  a 
couple  of  days  to  mount  his  pony  and  continue  the 
journey.  After  two  weeks  of  ministry  with  the 
Indians  he  returned  home,  the  Indians  following  him 
as  he  rode  out  of  their  camp,  firing  their  guns  in 
salute  and  crying  out  their  farewells. 

That  winter  an  urgent  call  came  to  him  from  the 
Blackfoot  nation.  These  men  were  absolute  pagans, 
whose  country  was  considered  wild  and  unsafe  but  the 
proud  race  was  now  terribly  afflicted,  their  children 
dying  off  like  flies  with  a mysterious  sickness.  Some 


1857 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


69 


few  of  them  had  met  Father  Lacombe  at  Fort 
Edmonton  and  in  their  extremity  they  begged  him 
to  come  to  them. 

This  was  well  into  February,  1857. 

Across  the  river 1 from  Edmonton,  Father 
Lacombe  came  upon  a sickening  spectacle — three 
mangled  bodies  of  Blackfeet,  whose  feet  and  hands 
were  cut  off  and  hung  on  trees. 

He  sent  Alexis  back  to  the  Fort  for  men  to  bury 
the  bodies;  then  the  two  resumed  their  journey, 
sturdily  trudging  over  the  snowy  plain  toward  the 
Buffalo  Lake. 

1 On  the  site  of  Strathcona’s  business-centre  to-day. 


VII 


At  dusk  the  teepees  of  a Cree  encampment  rose 
before  them  near  the  southern  extremity  of  a small 
lake,  and  the  travellers  were  taken  in  and  fed.  Many 
of  the  Indians  in  this  camp  were  catechumens  of 
Father  Lacombe  and  warmly  attached  to  him.  When 
they  heard  he  was  bound  for  the  Blackfoot  camp, 
they  urged  him  in  every  possible  way  not  to  go.  They 
said  the  Blackfeet  would  blame  their  disease  on  the 
whites  and  would  either  refuse  to  receive  him  or  might 
kill  him. 

Father  Lacombe  reminded  them  that  he  had 
received  a prayer  for  help,  and  he  was  not  going  to 
turn  back  when  fellow-creatures  in  trouble  needed 
him.  He  and  Alexis  pushed  on,  losing  their  way  for 
a while  in  a snowstorm,  but  at  the  end  of  a couple 
of  days  they  came  upon  the  encampment  of  the 
Blackfeet.  Mindful  of  the  character  of  these 
Indians,  he  signalled  to  them  from  a short  distance. 

“Soon  a crowd  came  around  me,”  he  writes  of  this 
in  his  Memoirs.  “What  a scene!  Imagine  these 
men,  women  and  children — half -naked,  although  it 
was  quite  cold  weather  and  their  bodies  reddened  with 
the  fever  which  devoured  them.  For  some  minutes 
I did  not  know  what  was  going  to  happen.  They 
swarmed  about  me,  disputing  for  my  person.  Some 

70 


1857 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


71 


caught  my  hands;  others  my  soutane.  One  tried  to 
lift  me  up  toward  the  sky  crying  out  some  prayer 
to  the  Master  of  Life  for  pity.” 

The  unfortunate  savages  were  crazed  with  fever 
and  fear,  and  they  looked  to  him,  the  friend  of  Ninna- 
stakow,  as  some  great  medicine-man  to  relieve  them. 
He  released  himself  from  the  crowd  and  entering  a 
near-by  lodge  found  a stoically  silent  man,  who  held 
out  to  him  the  dead  body  of  his  child.  It  was  the 
last  of  his  family  to  die.  Three  other  bodies  lay 
inside  the  lodge,  and  the  despairing  father  weakened 
with  disease  would  not  for  the  moment  separate  him- 
self from  this  last  child. 

There  were  about  sixty  tents  in  all,  and  from  every 
side  the  priest’s  ears  were  stricken  with  low  moans 
or  lamentations.  The  epidemic  he  found  to  be  scarlet 
fever  of  a severe  type.  It  was  carrying  off  scores  of 
their  people  and  the  Indians  were  terrified  out  of 
their  habitual  bravery  by  the  unseen  foe  which  stalked 
so  ruthlessly  through  the  camp. 

The  poor  young  Blackrobe  with  his  small  box  of 
remedies  did  everything  he  could  to  stem  the  disease. 
Night  and  day  he  passed  through  their  tents,  con- 
soling and  tending  them,  but  at  the  thought  of  how 
little  he  could  do,  his  warm  young  nature  was  in  a 
torment  of  rebellion  only  second  to  their  own. 

There  were  several  camps  to  visit,  all  a few  miles 
apart  on  the  snowy  plains,  and  he  had  spent  twenty 
tireless  days  among  them,  when  he  was  himself 
stricken  with  the  disease. 


72 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1857 


His  remedies  were  gone  and  he  felt  himself  con- 
sumed with  the  fever.  He  reconciled  himself  to  this 
inglorious  end  of  the  years  of  work  planned  for  him- 
self, but  in  a few  days,  to  his  own  and  Alexis’  great 
joy,  he  began  to  recover. 

The  epidemic  had  now  about  spent  itself,  and  on 
his  recovery  he  arranged  for  the  burial  of  all  the  dead 
Indians.  Because  of  the  frozen  ground,  the  Indians 
could  not  dig  graves,  as  he  would  have  preferred 
them  to  do,  nor  did  the  exhausted  warriors  build  their 
usual  burial  platforms  and  expose  the  bodies  to  the 
pure  elements.  They  simply  gathered  the  dead  bodies 
together  in  skin  lodges — ten  or  fifteen  in  each  lodge — 
and  then  covered  the  remains  with  stones  and  snow. 

The  work  of  Father  Lacombe’s  mission  in  1858 
and  1859  has  been  concisely  pictured  in  this  sentence 
from  Bishop  Tache’s  “Twenty  Years  of  Missions”. 
. . . “At  Lac  Ste.  Anne  Father  llemas  and 

Father  Lacombe  multiplied  themselves  to  advance 
the  reign  of  Christ.” 

Their  days  were  divided  between  work  in  the  fields 
and  their  ministry  to  the  Metis  and  Indians  in  and 
about  the  mission.  It  was  a peaceful,  uneventful 
period,  in  which  from  day  to  day  the  simple-hearted, 
affectionate  children  of  the  forest  gathered  about  the 
priests  for  instruction,  or  less  willingly  exerted  them- 
selves with  shovel  and  hoe  to  work  under  direction 
in  the  barley  and  turnip  or  potato  fields  about  their 
homes. 

One  evening  early  in  January,  1858,  when  the 


1858 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


73 


little  woodland  settlement  of  about  forty-five  houses 
was  intent  upon  its  evening  meal  and  the  ruddy  fire- 
glow  just  tinted  the  opaqueness  of  its  parchment  win- 
dows a Metis  came  on  foot  to  the  mission  from  the 
Fort.  In  answer  to  the  inevitable  greeting — “What 
news?” — he  replied  that  a strange  white  man,  a 
Doctor,  had  arrived  at  the  Fort  a couple  of  days 
before  the  New  Year. 

The  Doctor,  he  said,  was  one  of  a large  party  sent 
by  the  great  Queen  Mother  across  the  sea  to  report 
on  the  west  and  her  children  there. 

The  half-breed  had  other  gossip  of  the  Fort,  but 
the  first  news  overshadowed  all  the  rest.  For  the 
poor  young  Father  Frain,  who  had  arrived  from 
France  a few  months  before,  had  been  ailing  contin- 
ually since  his  arrival,  and  the  opportunity  of  con- 
sulting a physician  seemed  providential.  Next 
morning  Father  Lacombe  got  out  his  toboggan- 
cariole  and  dogs  to  take  him  to  the  Fort. 

Father  Frain  was  well  wrapped  in  buffalo  robes 
and  then  with  a “Marche;  Hourrah!33  from  their 
robust,  leather-clad  master  the  dogs  made  off.  It 
was  fifty  miles  to  the  Fort  through  the  woods.  That 
evening  after  dusk  had  fallen  and  the  big  gates  of 
the  Fort  were  closed  the  watchman  heard  a vigorous 
pounding  on  the  main  gates — Father  Lacombe  and 
his  invalid  waited  outside. 

Dr.  James  Hector  of  the  Palliser  Expedition — 
for  he  was  the  newcomer — was  called  to  attend  the 
sick  priest.  Mr.  Swanston  hospitably  assigned  a 


74 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1858 


room  to  Father  Frain.  The  Doctor  did  what  he 
could  for  him,  but  the  improvement  was  slight.  It 
was  the  country  and  the  diet  that  were  killing  the 
young  man.  They  decided  to  send  him  down  to  the 
Red  River — and  thence  to  Louisiana  in  sunnier 
climes. 

About  the  middle  of  February  Dr.  Hector  went 
out  to  Ste.  Anne  to  secure  half-breeds  there  for  the 
Expedition’s  journey  in  the  coming  summer.  He 
spent  Sunday  with  Father  Lacombe,  whom  he  char- 
acterizes in  his  official  reports  as  most  genial  and 
hospitable.  During  this  winter  and  in  the  following 
year  Father  Lacombe  met  the  Doctor  (later  Sir 
James  Hector  of  New  Zealand)  several  times,  and 
his  relations  with  him  and  the  botanist,  M.  Bourgeau, 
were  very  pleasant. 

The  latter  whiled  away  some  time  during  the 
tedious  winter  days  in  carving  wooden  candlesticks 
for  the  altar  in  the  Fort  chapel. 

Judging  from  a portion  of  his  report  to  the  Gov- 
ernment, Dr.  Hector  and  his  companions  were  im- 
pressed with  the  prowess  of  Father  Lacombe’s  prized 
dog-train  and  his  man  Alexis,  for  Hector  wrote: 

“M.  Le  Combe,  the  Roman  Catholic  priest,  has 
frequently  been  driven  from  Lac  Ste.  Anne  to  the 
Fort  in  a dog-cariole — 50  miles:  after  which  his  man 
Alexis,  one  of  the  best  runners  in  the  country,  loaded 
the  sled  with  400  pounds  of  meat  and  returned  to 
the  misison  before  next  morning!” 

Affairs,  spiritual  and  temporal,  prospered  with 


1859 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


75 


our  pioneer  in  1859.  His  regular  ministry  lay 
largely  with  the  freemen  and  Metis,  but  the  Indians 
came  to  him  for  direction  in  increasing  numbers. 
Their  conduct  was  in  general  very  good  and  in  accord- 
ance with  their  new  belief.  Sometimes  he  found  his 
little  chapel  at  Ste.  Anne  too  small  for  the  devout 
Christians  who  gathered  there,  and  on  the  whole  the 
mission  at  the  Christianized  Devil’s  Lake  was  satis- 
fying. 

A pleasant  picture  of  life  at  Ste.  Anne  this  year 
is  given  by  Lord  Southesk  in  his  book  of  western 
travel.  When  he  reached  Fort  Edmonton  in  August 
he  found  the  Company’s  servants  at  work  harvesting 
wheat  on  the  eastern  meadows  below  the  fort.  On 
August  19  he  set  out  with  a pack-train  bound  for  the 
mountains.  The  following  morning  Father  Lacombe, 
busy  at  some  repairs  in  his  chapel,  was  called  out 
to  welcome  a stranger. 

“A  fine  looking  man — tall — a gentleman”  was 
Southesk,  as  Father  Lacombe  recalls  him;  while  in 
his  book  the  English  traveller  says  he  met  with  a 
most  cordial  reception  here  and  had  the  pleasure  of 
dining  with  “Peres  Lacombe  and  Le  Frain  at  the 
Roman  Catholic  mission-house.” — “Agreeable  men 
and  perfect  gentlemen,”  he  notes  in  his  diary  that 
they  are,  and  comments  that  Rome  has  an  advantage 
in  the  class  of  men  she  assigns  to  her  missions,  as  she 
always  sends  out  “polished,  highly-educated  gentle- 
men.” 

“On  the  pressing  invitation  of  my  kind  host,” 


76 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1859 


writes  Lord  Southesk,  “I  remained  for  the  night  at 
the  mission-house.  Everything  there  is  wonderfully 
neat  and  flourishing:  it  is  a true  oasis  in  the  desert — 
the  cows  fat  and  fine,  the  horses  the  same,  the  dogs, 
the  very  cats  the  same.  A well-arranged  and  well- 
kept  garden,  gay  with  many  flowers  (some  of  them 
the  commonest  flowers  of  the  woods  and  plains 
brought  to  perfection  by  care  and  labour). 

“The  house  beautifully  clean:  meals  served  up  as 
in  a gentleman’s  dining-room.  Excellent  preserves 
of  service-berries  and  wild  raspberries — everything 
made  use  of  and  turned  to  account.  Surrounded  by 
such  comfort  and  refinement  and  in  the  society  of 
such  agreeable  entertainers  I passed  a most  pleasant 
evening,  one  that  often  recalled  itself  to  my  memory 
amidst  the  experiences  of  later  times.” 

He  found  the  walls  of  the  rooms  decorated  with 
religious  pictures,  while  the  home-made  book  shelves 
held  a goodly  library  of  books  of  a philosophical  and 
theological  character.  Southesk  wanted  to  buy 
horses  for  his  journey  in  order  to  push  on  more 
quickly  and  set  his  fancy  on  a black  colt  at  the  mis- 
sion. Being  a gift  to  Father  Lacombe  from  some 
Indians  in  return  for  special  kindness  shown  them, 
the  priest  would  not  part  with  it. 

Still  Pere  Lacombe,  he  adds,  was  anxious  to  oblige 
him,  so  he  looked  up  two  very  good  horses  for  which 
Southesk  paid  £19  each.  At  the  same  time  the  mis- 
sionary made  his  guest  a present  of  a sack  of  pemmi- 


1860 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


77 


can,  a valuable  gift  in  those  days  and  particularly 
that  year. 

“I  felt  quite  sorry  to  leave  Ste.  Anne,”  the  courtly 
Southesk  writes;  “all  was  so  kindly  and  pleasant  at 
the  mission.  The  good  fathers  loaded  us  with  pro- 
visions— fish,  potatoes,  dried  meat,  etc.  God  bless 
them  and  prosper  their  mission.” 

From  this  it  would  seem  that  Pere  Lacombe  at 
thirty-three  was  charming  socially  and  as  open-handed 
and  impulsively  generous  as  at  eighty-three. 

Lord  Southesk  did  not  forget  his  agreeable  host. 
In  New  York,  on  the  point  of  sailing  for  England, 
he  despatched  to  the  missionary  a long  letter  and 
small  brass  lock  for  the  home-made  cabinet  on  which 
the  Earl  found  the  young  priest  at  work  on  his 
arrival. 

In  his  book  Southesk  makes  no  mention  of  Father 
Remas,  for  the  latter  was  absent  then  at  St.  Boni- 
face. He  had  gone  with  a brigade  of  carts  to  meet 
three  Grey  Nuns  from  Montreal,  who  were  to  open 
a home  that  would  be  at  once  a boarding-school, 
orphanage,  hospital  and  refuge  for  the  aged. 

Father  Lacombe’s  active  mind  seized  upon  a hun- 
dred details  of  work  for  the  Indians  which  could  be 
better  accomplished  by  the  nuns  than  by  himself.  So 
he  was  overjoyed  to  welcome  them. 

The  pastoral  visit  of  the  Bishop  shortly  before 
Christmas  was  the  outstanding  event  of  1860.  The 
memory  of  these  pastoral  visits  of  Bishop  Tache  could 


78 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1860 


warm  Father  Lacombe’s  heart  decades  afterward: 
it  is  readily  understood  that  the  pleasure  at  the  mo- 
ment was  indescribable.  For  Bishop  Tache — young, 
brilliant,  and  spiritually  zealous — was  like  Father 
Lacombe  himself  a man  of  great  heart  and  of  strong 
social  charm.  He  was  a brilliant  raconteur,  and  a 
warmly  sympathetic  friend. 

An  unexpected  meeting  with  him  one  day  on  the 
road  from  Lac  la  Biche  made  the  forest-trail  a porch 
to  Paradise  for  Father  Lacombe.  He  promptly 
turned  his  dogs  about  and  the  three  arrived  at  Ste. 
Anne  at  eight  o’clock  at  night,  as  everyone  was  about 
to  retire. 

“Our  arrival,  quite  unexpectedly,  especially  at  that 
hour,  turned  everything  upside  down,”  writes  Father 
Lacombe  in  the  Memoirs.  “They  rushed  to  the 
chapel — everyone  rushed  there — the  Fathers,  the  Sis- 
ters and  the  Christians  living  about  us.  They  were 
so  agitated  and  surprised  that  they  sang  everything 
that  came  into  their  heads.  And  Father  Remas — 
ah,  that  dear  old  Father!  only  found  himself  as  the 
Te  Deum  was  being  chanted,  and  so  at  the  end  joined 
his  voice  in  the  grand  fete.  What  harmony!”  he 
concludes  with  a touch  of  laughing  sarcasm. 

For  days  this  little  mission  lost  in  the  woods  was 
like  a dovecote  in  a flutter  of  delight.  The  three 
Grey  Nuns  were  gladdened  like  children  by  the  mes- 
sages from  their  Sisters  at  St.  Boniface  and  letters 
from  the  home-folk  in  Quebec.  The  priests  rejoiced 


1860 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


79 


openly  in  the  presence  of  their  brilliant  and  humor- 
ous brother. 

The  Indian  children  of  the  school  and  the  old  peo- 
ple who  had  never  beheld  a bishop  before,  regarded 
him  with  awe;  while  the  Metis  couple,  Michel  and 
his  wife,  were  more  than  ever  important  since  they 
had  a bishop  to  cook  for. 

To  Father  Lacombe  fell  the  task  of  secretly  con- 
triving a crozier  for  the  bishop,  when  it  was  found 
that  he  had  brought  none  with  him:  it  was  not  a con- 
venient thing  to  pack  in  canoes  or  dog-carioles.  With 
an  Indian  hunting-knife  Father  Lacombe  fashioned 
one  of  greenwood  and  tinted  it  with  yellow  ochre. 

The  Bishop  carried  it  with  dignity  at  the  midnight 
Mass,  remarking  that  this  was  a pastoral  staff  as 
primitive  as  the  shepherds  carried  on  the  Great  Night! 
The  motley  congregation  was  impressed,  and  for 
years  after  the  wondrously-tinted  staff  had  a place 
over  the  rafters  at  Ste.  Anne,  where  it  was  the  sub- 
ject of  many  tender  and  laughing  reminiscences. 

Before  Bishop  Tache  went  away  a very  important 
step  was  taken  by  him  in  conjunction  with  Father 
Lacombe.  Lac  Ste.  Anne  mission,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  established  by  Father  Thibault  mainly  for  the 
Crees,  because  it  was  remote  from  the  Blackfoot  trail 
to  Fort  Edmonton. 

But  since  the  visit  of  Father  Lacombe  to  the 
Blackfeet  during  the  epidemic  that  race  had  been 
hankering  for  a share  of  the  magnetic  little  man’s 


80 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1860 


attentions;  while  he  felt  the  time  had  come  when  he 
should  turn  to  this  neglected  people. 

Consequently,  one  day  at  Lac  Ste.  Anne  a Black- 
foot  chief,  attired  in  savage  splendour,  sought  an 
audience  with  the  bishop.  In  the  name  of  his  tribe 
he  asked  that  a priest  should  be  sent  among  his  peo- 
ple. The  chief  promised  that  the  missionary  would 
be  unmolested,  and  that,  while  he  was  with  them,  they 
would  not  make  war  on  their  Cree  enemies. 

He  wanted  the  priest  to  carry  a white  flag  bearing 
a Red  Cross  as  a sign  easily  recognized  and  to  be 
respected  by  all.  (This  proviso  is  quite  obviously 
the  result  of  Father  Lacombe’s  conferences  with  the 
chief  and  his  people.)  The  interview  caused  the 
bishop  to  decide  upon  what  Father  Lacombe  had 
been  urging  for  some  time — the  foundation  of 
another  mission  nearer  the  Fort,  where  the  Blackfeet 
could  be  assembled  from  time  to  time. 

There  was  still  another  reason  influencing  the 
bishop.  Each  year  increasing  numbers  of  Metis 
were  abandoning  their  nomad-life  to  settle  about  the 
mission  and  learn  to  farm.  Father  Lacombe  in  his 
numerous  excursions  through  the  country  had  seen 
many  places  with  better  soil  than  that  about  the  lake ; 
where  also  there  were  no  muskegs  to  trap  unwary 
cattle  in  spring. 

Consequently  during  the  bishop’s  visit  it  was  ar- 
ranged the  two  should  visit  these  points. 

They  made  long  trips  into  the  country  by  dog- 
train  and  snowshoes.  One  day,  they  reached  a fine 


1860 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


81 


hill  overlooking  the  Sturgeon  valley,  where  that 
pretty  river  winds  on  itself  in  many  curves  and  Big 
Lake  gleams  in  the  distance.  The  prospect  at  once 
held  the  bishop’s  attention. 


VIII 


Standing  on  this  hill-top,  where  Father  Lacomhe 
had  so  often  paused  to  rest  his  dog-train,  the  two 
pioneers  made  a halt.  They  surveyed  the  broad 
valley  intently,  refreshing  themselves  with  a choice 
morsel  of  pemmican  as  they  did  so.  The  Bishop 
finally  turned  from  his  survey  and  said: 

“Mon  Pere,  the  site  is  indeed  magnificent.  I 
choose  it  for  the  new  mission,  and  I want  it  to  be 
called  St.  Albert,  in  honour  of  your  patron.” 

Father  Lacomhe  acquiesced  in  this  order,  which 
was,  he  confesses,  quite  agreeable  to  him.  Then  the 
bishop  planted  his  staff  in  the  snow  where  they  stood, 
saying: 

“Here  you  will  build  the  chapel!” 

And  on  the  exact  spot  where  the  staff  had  been 
planted,  Father  Lacomhe  a few  months  later  erected 
the  altar  of  the  mission  chapel. 

Friends  of  Father  Lacomhe — aware  of  his  intui- 
tive knowledge  of  human  nature  and  the  subtle 
diplomacy  hidden  under  his  most  naive  and  simple 
plainsman’s  exterior — will  gather  from  this  incident, 
as  on  numerous  other  occasions  with  Indians  and 
whites,  that  Father  Lacomhe  had  his  companion  do 
exactly  what  he  wanted  him  to  do.  . . . And  all 

88 


1861 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


83 


the  while  the  bishop  felt  he  was  the  prime  mover  in 
it  all! 

It  was  now  1861,  and  Ste.  Anne  mission  had 
arrived  at  a period  where  life  meant  a peaceful  round 
of  work.  This  was  not  what  the  ardent  nature  of 
Father  Lacombe  desired.  He  turned  with  eagerness 
in  the  springtime  to  the  building  of  the  new  mission. 
Father  Remas  was  preparing  then  to  go  up  to  Jasper 
House  to  hold  missions  for  the  Indians  there.  Father 
Caer,  who  had  come  in  the  previous  summer  to  replace 
Father  Frain,  was  to  go  to  the  prairies  with  the 
hunters  for  four  months.  Ste.  Anne  was  almost 
deserted  by  pastors  and  flock. 

The  snow  had  melted  from  the  face  of  our  good  old 
Mother , as  some  of  his  Indians  called  the  Earth,  when 
Father  Lacombe  got  ponies,  oxen  and  farm  imple- 
ments together,  and  with  the  devoted  Norm  and 
couple  for  servants  made  his  way  to  the  big  hill  by 
the  Sturgeon.  They  pitched  their  skin  tents  on  the 
summit  of  “la  chere  colline”  After  Mass  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  Father  Lacombe  walked  out  over 
his  new  domain,  showing  its  beauties  to  the  apprecia- 
tive Metis  couple  with  all  the  delights  of  a landed 
proprietor. 

Early  on  Monday  morning  Father  Lacombe, 
Michel  and  two  other  Metis  crossed  the  river  to  the 
spruce  forest  on  the  opposite  hill  and  began  to  get 
out  logs  for  the  buildings.  But  before  the  first  stroke 
was  put  in  the  trees,  the  four  knelt,  as  Father 


84 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1861 


Lacombe  directed,  and  asked  the  Great  Master  to 
bless  their  work. 

Soon  the  forest  rang  with  the  strokes  of  their  axes, 
and  Rose — the  wife  of  Michel — in  her  tent  listened 
with  delight  to  the  echoes  as  she  boiled  the  dried  meat 
for  their  noonday  meal. 

For  ten  days  the  logging  continued,  one  of  the 
oxen  being  employed  to  haul  the  logs  to  the  site.  A 
saw-pit  was  made,  and  logs  sawed  under  the  young 
priest’s  instruction.  Meanwhile  two  of  the  men  were 
employed  in  clearing  and  breaking  the  soil. 

There  was  only  one  plough:  Father  Lacombe  was 
anxious  to  cultivate  as  great  an  area  as  possible;  so 
he  arranged  that  one  man  should  plough  part  of  the 
day  with  two  oxen,  while  the  other  man  with  another 
yoke  should  plough  late  into  the  night.  This  was 
possible  because  of  the  long  twilight  of  the  Saskatche- 
wan valley. 

Very  soon  a number  of  the  Ste.  Anne  Metis  and 
freemen  turned  up  at  the  new  mission,  preferring  it 
to  the  summer  hunt  for  a novelty.  The  men  began 
to  get  timber  for  houses;  the  women  were  set  to  work 
on  a large  communal  garden  where  carrots,  onions, 
beets,  cabbages,  turnips  and  other  vegetables  were 
sown  in  abundance.  But  the  ruling-spirit  of  all  this 
activity;  now  in  the  saw-pit,  now  at  work  on  the 
houses,  again  in  the  fields — was  Father  Lacombe, 
altogether  happy  in  finding  an  adequate  outlet  for 
his  energy. 

All  through  the  spring  the  work  progressed.  J uly 


1861 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


85 


came  and  the  fertile  grainlands  on  the  hilltop  were 
touched  with  the  colour  of  the  harvest.  F ather 
Lacombe  and  his  regiment  of  workers  were  enjoying 
their  own  potatoes  and  vegetables.  The  houses  which 
had  risen  “by  enchantment/’  as  the  Genius  of  the 
place  declared,  would  soon  be  ready  for  habitation. 
They  were  quite  seemly  structures  for  the  period  and 
the  place,  all  being  fitted  with  floors  and  doors  and 
windows,  as  well  as  shingles  on  the  roofs  made  by 
the  Genius  and  his  zealous  helpers. 

Autumn  came — the  incomparable  golden  autumn 
of  the  western  prairies,  and  the  harvests  were  reaped 
and  stacked,  golden  tents  on  the  stripped  fields.  The 
vegetables  were  covered  away  in  root-cellars  on  the 
side  of  the  hill.  The  grain  that  had  not  properly 
matured  was  stacked  for  feed  for  the  cattle  and  pigs, 
while  the  rest  was  threshed  and  brought  to  the  Com- 
pany’s grist-mill  at  Fort  Edmonton. 

Alexis  and  some  noted  hunters  went  out  to  the 
plains  for  buffalo : others  at  the  mission  brought  home 
each  night  tempting  stores  of  wild  ducks  from  the 
marshy  ponds  fringing  the  Lake.  . . . “Qiiil 

etait  delicieux  pour  les  Metis  comme  pour  VIndien, 
ce  temps  de  VAge  d’Or,  quand  la  chasse  etait  encore 
abondante!”  Father  Lacombe  writes  rapturously. 

. . . “How  full  of  delights  for  the  Metis  as  for 

the  Indian,  this  Golden  Age  when  the  Hunt  was  still 
abundant !” 

By  this  time  twenty  Metis  families  had  been 
attracted  to  St.  Albert,  and  were  working  on  their 


86 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1862 


houses  or  lodges  for  the  winter.  . . . And  with 

all  this  the  heart  of  Father  Lacombe  was  very  glad. 

In  September  a young  traveller  was  carried  into 
the  mission  terribly  wounded  by  the  accidental  dis- 
charge of  his  gun.  Father  Lacombe  put  him  in  his 
own  bed,  where  he  and  Michel  did  everything  they 
could  for  him.  They  dressed  his  terrible  wound, 
mitigating  his  numbed  terror  by  their  sympathy.  He 
lingered  a couple  of  weeks. 

The  unfortunate  youth  was  from  Hamilton, 
Ontario.  Father  Lacombe  never  enquired  what  his 
business  in  the  west  had  been,  and  he  has  long  ago 
forgotten  his  name,  but  at  the  time  he  wrote  to  the 
man’s  family  and  received  a grateful  response  from 
them. 

The  following  year,  1862,  Father  Lacombe  says 
he  opened — “with  my  axe  in  my  hand” — at  work  on 
buildings  for  the  new  mission.  In  the  spring  he 
decided  there  must  be  a bridge  across  the  Sturgeon 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  The  river  was  greatly  swollen 
this  season  and  crossing  doubly  difficult,  yet  he  held 
to  his  custom  of  attending  the  Fort  on  every  alternate 
Sunday  to  celebrate  Mass.  The  previous  summer 
he  had  built  a small  scow  or  raft,  which  he  used  as 
a ferry,  swimming  his  pony  across. 

“But  I grew  so  tired  of  this,”  he  told  me  once. 
“I  say  to  myself  one  day — Til  make  a bridge.’ 
Next  Sunday  after  Mass  I went  outside  and  called 
aloud : 

“ ‘My  friends,  I’m  finished  to  cross  that  way  in  the 


1862 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


87 


water  walking  in  the  mud  on  the  bank  and  pushing 
the  scow.  I’ll  build  me  a bridge,  and  if  any  of  you 
do  not  help  me — that  man  will  not  cross  on  the  bridge : 
he  will  go  through  the  water.  Yes,  I will  have  a 
man  there  to  watch.’ 

“Next  morning  that  whole  settlement  came  out 
with  me.  They  brought  axes,  ropes,  everything  we 
need.  I put  an  old  Canadien  freeman  as  supervisor, 
and  in  three  days  we  had  a solid  bridge.  While  they 
worked  I fed  them  all,  with  pemmican  and  tea.” 

For  a long  time  this  was  known  along  the  Saskat- 
chewan as  The  Bridge.  Lord  Milton  and  Cheadle 
noted  it  as  the  only  bridge  they  had  seen  in  the  Hud- 
son’s Bay  Territory.  To  the  inhabitants  it  was  a 
marvel.  Like  children  they  crossed  and  re-crossed 
it  scores  of  times  at  first  simply  for  the  delight  and 
novelty  of  it. 

The  bridge  built  and  the  convent  well  advanced, 
F ather  Lacombe  decided  he  should  go  over  the 
prairies  to  St.  Boniface  to  report  to  his  bishop  and 
bring  back  the  yearly  supplies  of  the  missions  from 
Outside.  At  that  time  it  had  become  necessary  to 
pay  the  Indians  and  Metis  for  work.  A man’s  hire 
was  one  skin  a day,  which  meant  that  he  must  be  paid 
in  goods  to  the  value  of  one  beaver-skin. 

Anticipating  the  need  of  several  workmen  at  the 
new  mission,  Father  Lacombe  decided  to  secure  as 
large  a supply  of  goods  as  possible.  To  avoid  pay- 
ing the  high  freight  rates  of  the  Company,  he  organ- 
ized now  a brigade  of  Red  River  carts — the  historical 


88 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1862 


wooden  conveyance  of  western  Canada,  which  has 
creaked  its  commonplace  way  into  history  as  effectu- 
ally as  did  Boadicea’s  more  brilliant  chariot. 

This  was  the  first  brigade  of  carts  to  cross  the 
prairies  with  freight  between  Fort  Edmonton  and 
the  Red  River. 

The  voyage  across  the  prairies  was  made  each  way 
in  one  month,  and  on  his  return  in  August  Father 
Lacombe  brought  with  him  an  Oblate  novice,  Brother 
Scollen,  to  open  a school  for  the  children  at  Fort 
Edmonton.  This  school 1 — the  first  regular  school 
to  be  opened  west  of  Manitoba — was  held  in  a log- 
house  within  the  Fort,  and  there  were  twenty  pupils, 
the  children  of  the  Company’s  clerks  and  servants. 

They  were  not  scholars  of  a conventional  type. 
Many  of  them  wore  deerskin  garments  and  leggings, 
and  carried  lumps  of  pemmican  or  dried  meat  in  their 
pockets  as  dainties.  At  the  sound  of  the  voyageurs 9 
songs  or  cheers  in  autumn,  they  flew  like  arrows  from 
their  bows  out  to  the  bank  to  welcome  the  brigade 
home.  When  gunshot  signals  arose  from  the  south- 
ern bank,  they  rushed  to  see  what  stranger  would 
return  in  the  boat  sent  across  from  the  Fort.  They 
were  wild  as  hares. 

This  autumn  in  descending  the  ladder  from  a trap- 

1 It  is  worth  recording  that  only  forty-five  years  later  over  one  hun- 
dred students  of  the  new  University  of  Alberta  could  look  across  the 
Saskatchewan  at  the  deserted  gray  Fort,  from  which  this  school-house 
had  long  before  vanished — and  speak  of  the  Fort  and  all  pertaining  to 
it  as  something  connected  with  an  age  quite  remote.  ...  So  quickly 
has  this  Age  made  progress  in  the  West! 


1863 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


89 


door  in  the  storehouse  loft.  Father  Lacombe  missed 
his  footing.  The  ladder  slipped,  his  load  of  tools 
fell  and  instinctively  grasping  the  floor  above  him, 
the  heavy  trapdoor  crashed  down  on  his  hand.  He 
called:  no  one  came.  . . . 

He  grew  faint,  and  in  his  impatience  fearing  death 
would  result,  he  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  his  knife, 
planning  to  cut  his  hand  off  at  the  wrist.  The  knife 
was  not  there.  . . . Rallying  his  strength  for  one 

desperate  effort,  he  drew  his  body  up,  crashed  on  the 
door  with  his  head  and  hand.  ...  It  moved 
slightly — he  wrenched  his  hand  out,  and  fell  to  the 
floor  unconscious. 

Michel  and  Rose,  greatly  distressed,  found  him 
there  a little  later,  still  unconscious,  and  for  fifteen 
days  his  hand  was  so  shockingly  bruised  he  was  unable 
to  celebrate  Mass. 

By  the  end  of  this  year — 1862 — St.  Albert  had 
assumed  an  air  of  pastoral  permanence.  The  fol- 
lowing year  opened  peacefully  enough  for  the  little 
colony.  In  the  spring  Father  Lacombe  sent  Father 
Caer  with  some  Metis  to  St.  Boniface  with  the  carts, 
while  he  remained  at  his  post — an  energizing  spirit — 
putting  in  the  grain  crops,  building  a grist-mill  and 
completing  the  shelter  for  the  nuns,  while  work  was 
begun  on  a larger  house  for  them. 

The  past  winter  had  been  so  hard  that  the  Indians 
and  some  traders  were  in  a state  of  semi-starvation 
for  months.  The  Crees  and  Blackfeet  made  peace, 
because  they  needed  all  their  energies  for  the  hunt. 


90 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1863 


Fort  Edmonton,  in  spite  of  its  traditional  stores,  knew 
the  nip  of  want  toward  the  end  of  winter,  but  at  St. 
'Albert  the  little  colony’s  store  of  dried  meat  was  eked 
out  with  vegetables  and  grain  from  the  mission-farm 
End  fish  dried  in  the  autumn. 

The  Genius  presiding  there  now  became  even  more 
anxious  to  assure  them  a continual  supply  of  food, 
and  with  this  intention  he  set  to  work  upon  a flour-mill 
that  he  had  ordered  from  St.  Boniface  with  the  last 
year’s  carts.  His  day-dreams  already  showed  him 
grain-fields  yellowed  for  the  harvest  and  extending 
to  all  points  of  “this  dear  hillside.”  He  gave  small 
prizes  to  the  Metis  for  putting  in  large  crops  on  their 
own  farms,  and  the  system  proved  effective. 

With  the  help  of  an  American  adventurer,  who  had 
sought  the  free  hospitality  of  the  mission  during  the 
winter,  Father  Lacombe  set  up  the  machinery  of  his 
little  mill.  It  was  a vexing  task,  for  neither  of  the 
amateurs  understood  their  work.  With  the  machin- 
ery once  placed,  there  was  more  trouble  ahead  taming 
the  Indian  ponies  to  furnish  power. 

More  strenuously  than  their  human  prototypes 
these  bronchos  resisted  the  yoke  of  civilization,  the 
drudgery  of  modern  industry.  Father  Lacombe  was 
determined,  though.  His  will,  that  later  proved  a 
match  for  whole  Indian  tribes,  was  not  to  be  over- 
come by  bronchos.  By  degrees  they  were  broken  in, 
and  on  occasions  when  they  were  simply  “furious,” 
Father  Lacombe  resorted  to  the  use  of  oxen,  with  a 


1863 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


91 


Metis  sitting  near  to  touch  them  up  when  they 
lagged. 

Like  a verse  out  of  the  history  of  The-House-that- 
Jack-built  is  the  passage  written  by  Father  Lacombe 
to  a benefactor  in  Quebec  concerning  “the  wild  ponies 
that  turn  the  big  wheel  that  catches  the  cogs  of  a 
little  wheel,  that  pulls  round  the  band  that  sets  the 
millstones  in  motion  . . to  grind  the  flour  for 

the  colony  of  St.  Albert. 

“Having  neither  blacksmiths,  nor  iron,  nor  imple- 
ments the  supply  of  power  to  our  invention  was  often 
interrupted.  . . . However,  we  at  last  made 

flour — to  the  great  admiration  of  our  people.” 

This  was  the  first  horse-power  mill  erected  on  the 
western  plains,  and  it  had  a somewhat  varied  course 
not  unattended  by  misfortune. 


IX 


In  August  of  this  year.  Governor  Dallas  of  the 
Hudson’s  Bay  Company  arrived  at  Fort  Edmonton 
on  a tour  of  inspection. 

With  Mr.  Christie  he  went  riding  out  to  see  the 
mission,  which  had  become  the  one  point  of  interest 
easily  accessible  to  the  Fort.  Furthermore,  Dallas, 
who  had  come  not  long  before  from  Oregon,  and  had 
shared  there  in  the  Company’s  determined  opposition 
to  the  entry  of  American  settlers,  was  suspicious  of 
Father  Lacombe’s  little  colony,  where  the  freemen 
and  Metis  were  giving  all  their  time  to  farming 
instead  of  trapping  furs  as  the  Company’s  dividends 
demanded  they  should. 

His  irritation  attained  its  height  when  he  reached 
the  Sturgeon.  There  stood  The  Bridge!  The  boast 
of  the  settlement  it  might  be,  but  as  surely  plain  evi- 
dence of  the  intrusion  of  the  white  man  and  his  unin- 
vited Progress.  Tut!  tut!  this  was  enough  to  make 
any  Company  man  of  the  old  school  grow  hot.  Could 
not  the  Gentlemen  Adventurers  have  built  bridges 
over  every  stream  in  the  west  if  they  had  wanted  to 
see  them  there?  And  here  was  this  priest  building 
one  with  its  invitation  to  settlers — the  thin  edge  of 
the  wedge  of  civilization  being  thrust  in. 

92 


1863 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


93 


“Have  that  bridge  removed  to-morrow,”  Dallas 
ordered  Christie  sternly,  and  the  Chief  Factor 
assented  quietly.  At  the  mission  dinner-table, 
where  he  was  regaled  with  the  best  of  its  cream  and 
the  choicest  of  its  vegetables,  the  stalwart  Governor 
grew  hot  again,  but  this  time  with  a sort  of  admira- 
tion. Emphasizing  his  remarks  with  strokes  of  his 
heavy  fist  on  the  little  table,  he  said  to  Christie : 

“See  the  thrifty  way  in  which  these  missioners  make 
the  most  of  everything,  in  spite  of  their  poverty.  See 
how  with  all  our  resources  and  our  hundreds  of  serv- 
ants, our  Forts  are  falling  to  ruin,  while  these  priests 
who  come  into  the  country  with  nothing  but  a little 
book  under  their  arm” — referring  to  the  Breviary 
which  Father  Lacombe  had  under  his  arm — “they  are 
performing  wonders. 

“Their  houses  spring  up  from  the  ground  like 
trees — growing  bigger  and  better  all  the  time;  while 
our  Forts  are  tumbling  to  ruin.  Sir,  things  must  be 
improved!” 

Before  long  things  were  changed  at  Fort  Edmon- 
ton, but  when  the  old  Governor — in  whom  the  sterner 
traditions  of  the  Company  seemed  embodied — had 
gone  on  his  way  again,  no  hand  was  lifted  at  Mr. 
Christie’s  order  against  The  Bridge.  The  Factor 
had  no  intention  of  working  such  an  injustice  upon 
his  friend. 

In  1863  Lord  Milton  and  his  travelling  companion, 
W.  B.  Cheadle,  visited  St.  Albert.  They  had  already 
spent  one  dreary  winter  in  a log  hut  built  by  them- 


94 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1863 


selves  in  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Carleton.  Like  most 
people  on  the  plains  that  season  they  had  known  what 
it  was  to  feel  hungry.  At  Fort  Edmonton,  where 
Richard  Hardisty  was  now  in  charge  during 
Christie’s  absence,  the  travellers  had  to  spend  some 
time  waiting  for  horses  and  guides  to  push  on  to  the 
mountains. 

Meanwhile  they  visited  St.  Albert  and  relate  in 
their  book  of  travels: 

“At  Lake  St.  Alban’s,  about  nine  miles  north  of 
the  Fort,  a colony  of  freemen — i.  e.,  half-breeds  who 
have  left  the  service  of  the  Company — have  formed 
a small  settlement  which  is  presided  over  by  a Romish 
priest.  Some  forty  miles  beyond  is  the  ancient  col- 
ony of  Lake  St.  Ann’s  of  similar  character,  but  with 
more  numerous  inhabitants. 

“Soon  after  our  arrival  Mr.  Hardisty  informed  us 
that  five  grizzly  bears  had  attacked  a band  of  horses 
belonging  to  the  priest  of  St.  Albans  and  afterwards 
pursued  two  men  who  were  on  horseback — one  of 
whom,  being  very  badly  mounted,  narrowly  escaped 
by  the  stratagem  of  throwing  down  his  coat  and  cap, 
which  the  bears  stopped  to  tear  to  pieces.  The  priest 
had  arranged  to  have  a grand  hunt  on  the  morrow 
and  we  resolved  to  join  in  the  sport. 

“We  carefully  prepared  guns  and  revolvers  and  at 
daylight  next  morning  drove  over  with  Baptiste  to 
St.  Alban’s.  We  found  a little  colony  of  some 
twenty  houses  built  on  the  rising  ground  near  a small 
lake  and  river.  A substantial  wooden  bridge  spanned 


1863 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


95 


the  latter,  the  only  structure  of  the  kind  we  had  seen 
in  the  Hudson’s  Bay  territory. 

“The  priest’s  house  was  a pretty  white  building 
with  garden  around  it  and  adjoining  it  the  chapel, 
school  and  nunnery.  The  worthy  Father,  M. 
Lacombe,  was  standing  in  front  of  his  dwelling  as 
we  came  up,  and  we  at  once  introduced  ourselves  and 
inquired  about  the  projected  bear-hunt.  He  wel- 
comed us  very  cordially,  and  informed  us  that  no  day 
had  yet  been  fixed,  but  that  he  intended  to  preach 
a crusade  against  the  marauders  on  the  following 
Sunday,  when  a time  should  be  appointed  for  the 
half-breeds  to  assemble  for  the  hunt.” 

“Pere  Lacombe  was  an  exceedingly  intelligent 
man,  and  we  found  his  society  very  agreeable. 
Although  a French-Canadian  he  spoke  English  very 
fluently  and  his  knowledge  of  the  Cree  language  was 
acknowledged  by  the  half-breeds  to  be  superior  to 
their  own.  Gladly  accepting  his  invitation  to  stay 
and  dine,  we  followed  him  into  his  house,  which  con- 
tained only  a single  room  with  a sleeping  loft  above. 

“The  furniture  consisted  of  a small  table  and  a 
couple  of  rough  chairs,  and  the  walls  were  adorned 
with  several  coloured  prints,  amongst  which  were  a 
portrait  of  His  Holiness  the  Pope,  another  of  the 
Bishop  of  Red  River,  and  a picture  representing  some 
very  substantial  and  stolid  looking  angels  lifting  very 
jolly  saints  out  of  the  flames  of  purgatory. 

“After  a capital  dinner  of  soup,  fish  and  dried 
meat  with  delicious  vegetables  we  strolled  around  the 


96 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1863 


settlement  in  company  with  our  host.  He  showed  us 
several  very  respectable  farms,  with  rich  cornfields, 
large  bands  of  horses  and  herds  of  cattle.  He  had 
devoted  himself  to  improving  the  condition  of  his 
flock,  had  brought  out  at  a great  expense  ploughs  and 
other  farming  implements  for  their  use,  and  was  at 
the  present  completing  a corn-mill  to  be  worked  by 
horse-power. 

“He  had  built  a chapel  and  established  schools  for 
the  half-breed  children.  The  substantial  bridge  we 
had  crossed  was  the  result  of  his  exertions.  Alto- 
gether this  little  settlement  was  the  most  flourishing 
community  we  had  seen  since  leaving  Red  River,  and 
it  must  be  confessed  that  the  Romish  Priests  far  excel 
their  Protestant  brethren  in  missionary  enterprise 
and  influence. 

“They  have  established  stations  at  Isle  a la  Crosse, 
St.  Alban’s,  St.  Ann’s,  and  other  places,  far  out  of 
the  wilds,  undeterred  by  danger  or  hardship,  and 
gathering  half-breeds  and  Indians  around  them,  have 
taught  with  considerable  success  the  elements  of  civ- 
ilization as  well  as  religion;  while  the  latter  remain 
inert  enjoying  the  ease  and  comfort  of  the  Red  River 
settlement,  or  at  most  make  an  occasional  summer’s 
visit  to  some  of  the  nearest  Posts.”  1 

1 In  this  last  statement  the  travellers  were  rather  severe,  for  al- 
though the  Catholic  missionaries  certainly  had  gone  into  the  wilder- 
ness in  vastly  larger  numbers  than  any  other,  and  had  worked  in 
heroic  fashion,  there  were  at  that  time  two  missionaries  of  the  Church  of 
England  in  the  Mackenzie  district,  where  the  first  went  in  1859;  while  on 
the  Upper  Saskatchewan  the  Rev.  Mr.  Woolsey,  a Wesleyan  preacher. 


1868 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


97 


This  year  with  St.  Albert  completely  hewn  out  of 
the  forest  and  all  matters  progressing  favourably. 
Father  Lacombe  felt  his  old  desire  to  go  far  out  into 
the  plains  to  meet  the  Blackfeet  in  their  own  country. 
Taking  his  Alexis  and  a half-breed  Kootenai  and 
Cree,  named  Francois,  who  spoke  some  Blackfoot, 
he  rode  forth  with  plenty  of  dried  meat  for  provi- 
sions. 

For  the  first  time  he  carried  with  him  his  Red  Cross 
flag — a small  white  pennon  about  two  feet  by  one 
and  a half,  with  a red  Cross  emblazoned  on  it.  It 
was  the  signal  agreed  upon  with  the  Blackfoot  chief 
at  Ste.  Anne  in  1860.  The  little  party  scoured  the 
plains  due  south  and  southeast  of  Fort  Edmonton, 
but  Father  Lacombe’s  time  was  so  occupied  with  the 
bands  of  Crees  he  met  first  that  he  finally  returned 
to  the  mission  without  meeting  any  but  one  small 
camp  of  Blackfeet. 

It  was  during  this  journey  to  the  prairies  that 
Father  Lacombe  had  his  famous  encounter  with  the 
Sorcerer  and  medicine-man,  White-Eagle,  the  ruling 
spirit  in  a camp  of  over  300  hostile  pagan  Crees  of 
the  plains. 

had  succeeded  his  kindly  little  predecessor,  Mr.  Rundle,  and  had  a 
mission  at  Pigeon  Lake. 

In  this  year,  too,  the  Rev.  George  MacDougall  of  the  Methodist 
Church  came  into  the  Edmonton  country.  The  latter  was  a man  to 
whose  useful  life  and  fine  character  Father  Lacombe  gladly  testifies  in 
fraternal  charity.  He  came  after  Milton  and  Cheadle’s  visit,  however, 
and  they  had  naturally  drawn  their  conclusions  from  what  they  saw; 
meeting  zealous  French  priests  at  every  post  and  none  of  any  other 
race  or  creed. 


98 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1864 


For  days  the  missionary  camped  with  his  Alexis 
within  their  circle  of  tepees — unwelcomed,  while  he 
and  his  religion  were  most  subtly  misrepresented  and 
reviled  by  the  medicine-man.  To  this  Father  La- 
combe  opposed  a subtlety  and  determination  that  more 
than  matched  White  Eagle,  and  a dower  of  the  “faith 
that  moves  mountains.5’  Mounting  his  pony  at  dawn 
one  day  he  rode  outside  the  circle  of  tents  holding 
his  crucifix  high  in  one  hand  and  his  Red  Cross  flag 
in  the  other.  He  raised  the  Indian  chant  of  Ho-ho- 
ye-hi;  then  called  upon  the  Indians  to  rise  and  hear 
his  story,  for  he  would  talk  to  them  again. 

The  Indians  gathered  about  him  again,  and  this 
time  White  Eagle’s  arguments  were  so  completely 
overturned  that  the  indignant  medicine-man  left  the 
camp  and  before  long  almost  the  entire  camp  became 
Christian. 

Father  Lacombe  returned  to  St.  Albert  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  year  with  occasional  visits  to  Fort 
Edmonton,  which  under  William  Christie’s  sway  had 
assumed  an  improved  aspect. 

A house  and  chapel  built  for  Father  Lacombe 
stood  just  west  of  the  Big  House.  This  was  un- 
doubtedly intended  not  only  to  please  the  priest  who 
was  a warm  friend  of  Christie,  but  to  provide  the 
Fort  as  well  with  a lightning-rod  against  the  wrath 
of  the  Blackfeet. 

In  the  following  spring — in  1864 — for  the  first 
time  in  Father  Lacombe’s  recollection  the  Blackfeet 
threatened  the  peace  of  Fort  Edmonton. 


Making  a Blackfoot  Brave  the  Ordeal 


1864 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


99 


A large  party — over  seven  hundred  in  all — had 
come  in  to  trade,  and  were  camped  for  some  days  on 
the  hill  behind  the  Fort.  The  meadows  were  alive 
with  ponies,  dogs  and  people,  until  one  day  after  the 
trading  had  been  concluded  the  order  for  departure 
was  cried  through  the  encampment — much  to  the  re- 
lief of  the  Gentlemen  Traders. 

The  lodges  were  pulled  down  and  bound  with 
thongs : the  party  dropped  easily  into  marching-order, 
a file  of  hunters  winding  down  the  steep  path  to  the 
river  which  was  then  low  and  easily  forded.  They 
made  a picturesque  array — lusty  strong-featured 
bronzed  men  and  women  with  lithe  half-naked  bodies 
and  faces  streaked  with  vermilion.  The  leaders  wore 
eagle-feathers  in  their  hair:  the  men  were  for  the  most 
part  naked  but  for  a buffalo-robe  caught  around 
them:  the  women  wore  decorated  tunics  of  antelope- 
skin  or  blue  cloth  and  richly  beaded  gaiters.  Men 
and  women  alike  sat  their  sure-footed  bronchos  with 
the  ease  of  the  plainsman,  their  primitive  chattels 
fastened  to  travoix  dragged  behind  the  ponies. 

The  band  had  already  crossed  the  Saskatchewan 
and  their  straggling  numbers  were  climbing  the  trail 
up  the  wooded  banks  on  the  south  side — when  the 
trouble  began.  A Sarcee  had  lingered  behind  the 
party,  and  standing  by  the  Indian  Gate  near  the 
southeast  bastion  was  intent  upon  a horse  deal  with 
Flatboat  McLaine.  Joe  McDonald  and  a man 
named  Smith  stood  near  helping  McLaine  in  the  bar- 
ter. Smith  was  endeavouring  to  make  a deal  for  a 


100 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1864 


bundle  of  old  clothes  and  a quantity  of  alcohol  in  an 
old  painkiller  bottle. 

With  vigorous  pantomime  he  would  first  let  the  In- 
dian smell  the  alcohol,  then  pointing  to  the  bottle  and 
the  clothes — magnificently  proffer  the  whole  for  the 
horse.  The  Indian  dallied:  he  wanted  more — for  a 
pony  in  those  days  was  worth  fifty  to  sixty  skins. 
. . . Suddenly  a small  party  of  Cree  warriors 

slipped  around  the  bastion  from  the  south  side:  with- 
out warning  Little  Pine,  their  leader,  emptied  his 
rifle  into  the  Sarcee’s  thighs. 

The  Sarcee  brave  fell  forward,  mortally  wounded, 
blood  gushing  from  mouth  and  nostrils.  McLaine 
seizing  the  body  dragged  it  to  the  southeastern  gate 
while  the  Crees  made  off,  firing  wild  as  they  went. 
The  Sarcee’s  wife  in  dumb  agony  ran  to  throw  her 
arms  around  the  bleeding  body:  she  was  pulled  into 
the  courtyard  by  the  men,  and  the  gates  speedily 
closed  by  the  steward.1 

Father  Lacombe  was  seated  writing  in  his  quarters. 
Startled  there  by  the  cry  that  a Blackfoot  had  been 
killed  he  hurried  out  to  find  the  unfortunate  Sarcee 
drenched  in  blood  on  the  floor  of  the  Indian  Hall. 
His  squaw  crouched  beside  him  moaning  piteously* 

i Malcolm  Groat,  the  son  of  Alexander  Groat,  a popular  drill-sergeant 
in  Wellington’s  army  in  the  Peninsular  War,  was  steward  of  Fort 
Edmonton  for  several  years.  He  was  born  in  Glasgow  and  is  a de- 
scendant of  that  Jan  Groote  who  came  from  Holland  early  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  for  services  rendered  had  bestowed  on  him  by 
King  James  II  those  lands  upon  which  John  O’Groat’s  house  came  to 
be  built.  Malcolm  Groat  came  to  Edmonton  House  from  Scotland  by 
way  of  the  Hudson’s  Bay  in  1862. 


1864 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


101 


The  warrior  was  not  dead,  and  when  his  wounds  were 
dressed,  he  was  put  in  the  care  of  Steward  Groat 
and  carried  to  a bed  of  blankets  in  the  latter’s 
room. 

His  wife  stayed  with  him,  crouching  beside  him  like 
a stricken  animal,  moaning  softly  with  heart-breaking 
poignancy.  Groat  called  on  McLaine  to  keep  him 
company  through  this  vigil,  and  McLaine — a good- 
hearted  rough  fellow — essayed  to  explain  to  the 
woman  by  signs  that  if  her  husband  needed  any  as- 
sistance through  the  night  she  was  to  call  himself  and 
Groat.  The  two  men  climbed  therewith  to  their 
bunks. 

The  well-meant  offer  only  roused  the  pair  to  alarm, 
and  from  soft  moans  their  voices  raised  to  weird 
death-chants  and  cries,  alternating  with  calls  for  “La- 
combe!”  or  “Brazeau!”  Groat  finally  brought  the 
interpreter  Brazeau  and  after  he  had  reassured  the 
unfortunate  pair  that  no  harm  was  meant  to  either  by 
McLaine,  they  kept  stoically  quiet  for  the  rest  of 
the  night. 

For  a couple  of  days  the  warrior  lingered — then 
died.  His  body  was  buried  under  the  trees  in  the 
Fort  burying-ground  by  the  river,  and  the  woman 
laden  with  gifts  was  sent  back  to  her  own  people. 

Some  weeks  later  a war-party  of  Blackfeet  re- 
turned to  the  Fort.  They  were  met  far  outside  the 
gates  by  Brazeau,  who  had  enjoyed  a reputation 
among  them  for  fearlessness  since  his  Missouri  days. 
He  conducted  the  chiefs  to  the  Indian  Hall,  where 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1864 


102 

Christie  and  Father  Lacombe  smoked  the  calumet 
with  them  and  sent  them  home  laden  with  gifts. 

About  July  of  this  year  Dr.  Rae,  the  explorer, 
passed  through  Fort  Edmonton  on  his  way  to  British 
Columbia.  As  all  travellers  did  at  the  time,  when 
they  had  heard  of  the  little  Utopia  north  of  the  Fort, 
he  went  out  to  see  it  and  its  founder. 

“Ah,  my  crops  were  fine.  The  place — it  looked 
— yes,  heavenly!”  Father  Lacombe  recalls  with  en- 
thusiasm. “And  Dr.  Rae,  he  was  astonished,  he  say 
to  me,  to  see  such  grain. 

“At  this  time  Alexis,  mon  fameux  Alexis,  had  some 
growth  on  his  hand,  big  as  a bird’s  egg  and  soft,  and 
the  pain  burned  him.  When  Dr.  Rae  came  out  to  us 
— like  a Providence — I had  him  look  at  it,  but  Alexis 
said  he  was  afraid  to  have  anything  done  for  it.  I 
said  to  Rae,  ‘When  I talk  to  Alexis  and  he  is  turn 
from  you — cut  it  quick  with  your  lance!’ — He  did, 
and  it  cured  the  hand.  My  poor  Alexis!” 

The  crops  that  year  were  particularly  good,  and 
Father  Lacombe,  anticipating  plenty  of  work  for  his 
mill,  tried  to  improve  it.  With  the  Brother  Bowes 
he  built  a dam  on  the  Sturgeon  to  provide  power.  In 
June  a steady  downpour  of  rain  made  the  lake  and 
rivers  rise;  small  creeks  swelled  to  the  size  of  young 
rivers;  the  dam  was  threatened  with  destruction. 

Fearing  the  worst  Father  Lacombe  got  on  his 
horse  and  galloped  round  the  settlement  calling  on  his 
people  to  come  and  help  him.  They  hung  lanterns 
in  the  trees  by  the  riverside  and  all  night  worked  un- 


1864 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


108 


der  his  direction  digging  a canal  at  the  bend  above 
the  mill-dam.  The  water  was  diverted  from  its 
regular  course,  pressure  on  the  dam  was  relieved 
and  that  precious  bit  of  frontier  workmanship 
saved. 

A surprise  was  now  in  store  for  Father  Lacombe. 
Shortly  before  the  brigade  returned  from  Norway 
House  Richard  Hardisty,  the  young  trader  at  Rocky 
Mountain  House,  had  been  down  to  the  Red  River. 
He  brought  back  word  to  Father  Lacombe  that  a 
brother  of  his  was  coming  up  by  boat.  A few  days 
later  as  the  newcomer,  a slim  youth  of  eighteen,  rode 
out  to  the  mission  the  two  met  on  the  St.  Albert 
trail. 

Gaspard  Lacombe  was  a straight,  self-reliant 
youth,  less  emotional  than  the  missionary,  yet  resem- 
bling him  strangely  in  face  and  figure.  The  lure  of 
the  open  trail,  that  in  Albert  Lacombe  had  been  over- 
come by  his  studies  and  ambitions,  had  conquered 
Gaspard.  Suddenly  leaving  school  at  fourteen  he 
set  out  roaming  with  a young  man  down  through 
Virginia  and  Kentucky  and  back  again  through  Ohio 
to  Ontario — working  his  way  as  he  went. 

He  returned  home.  To  please  his  family  he  held 
a clerkship  in  Montreal  for  eighteen  months.  The 
wanderlust  again  seized  him  and  off  he  went  to  Al- 
bany. Here  a letter  came  from  his  mother,  enclosing 
one  from  Father  Lacombe,  in  which  he  alluded  to 
American  miners  who  had  made  their  first  find  of 
Saskatchewan  gold. 


104* 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1864* 


Within  five  hours  Gaspard  was  on  board  a train 
for  St.  Paul. 

The  next  summer  he  surprised  Richard  Hardisty  at 
Fort  Garry  by  asking  to  be  taken  to  Edmonton 
House. 

‘'But,  you  little  fellow,”  the  Edmonton  man  pro- 
tested, “your  brother  will  be  vexed  if  I take  you  away 
back  there!” 

Gaspard,  not  unlike  his  brother  in  his  determina- 
tion, finally  had  his  way,  and  as  we  have  seen  arrived 
at  St.  Albert. 

Shortly  after  his  arrival  Gaspard  Lacombe  accom- 
panied his  brother  out  to  Beaver  Hills,  where  a big 
encampment  of  Crees  were  driving  buffalo  into 
pounds  to  slaughter  them. 

“All  learned  then,”  says  Gaspard  in  his  soft 
Southern  accents,  “what  the  Sisters  meant  when  they 
wahned  me  that  Father  Lacombe  gave  everything 
away.  Ma  dear!  the  first  day  he  gave  away  ma  red 
flannel  shirt — the  only  one  Ah  had  in  ma  sack — be- 
cause he  had  nothing  himself  but  what  he  wore. 

. o . Heu!  the  vermin  and  cold  were  so  bad  Ah 
only  stayed  three  days  in  the  camp;  some  half-breeds 
passed  bound  for  St.  Albert.  I joined  them — Ail’d 
have  left  sooner  if  I could!” 

From  Beaver  Hills  Father  Lacombe  went  to 
Rocky  Mountain  House  to  instruct  a party  of  Black- 
feet.  One  morning  outside  the  gates  he  was  hailed  by 
a weary  party  1 of  American  miners,  half-famished 


i Jimmy  Gibbons,  who  recalled  these  details  for  me  at  Edmonton  in 


1864 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


105 


and  footsore.  They  had  lived  on  horseflesh  from  the 
Devil’s  Lake  to  the  Red  River,  where  the  Blackfeet 
had  stolen  all  the  rest  of  their  horses.  A fresh  travoix 
trail  had  providentially  guided  them  in  to  the  post. 

Father  Lacombe  led  them  into  the  Fort  entrusting 
them  to  the  hospitality  of  Richard  Hardisty,  the  trader 
in  charge.  Savoury  rabbit-stew,  the  best  the  post 
could  offer,  was  set  before  the  hungry  men  and  de- 
voured with  relish. 

Through  Idaho  and  Montana,  at  Buffalo  Hump 
and  Orafino,  in  Bitter-root  Valley,  at  Bannock  and 
Pike’s  Peak,  then  up  in  the  Kootenays — the  strangers 
had  known  miner’s  luck,  until  now,  drawn  by  the 
pale  lure  of  Saskatchewan  gold  they  had  come  on  this 
voyage  of  mischance. 

o**oo»*o 

It  was  in  December,  1864,  that  the  Rev.  Father 
Vandenburghe  of  France  arrived  at  St.  Albert  with 
Bishop  Tache  on  a tour  of  inspection.  Before  their 
departure  on  January  9,  new  posts  were  assigned  to 
Father  Lacombe  and  his  colleagues.  As  fond  par- 
ents do  with  their  children  at  Christmas,  the  Superiors 
had  tried  to  give  each  his  heart’s  desire — and  so  there 
fell  to  the  lot  of  Father  Lacombe  “the  mission  of 
coursing  the  prairies  to  try  and  reach  the  poor  savage 
Crees  and  Blackfeet.” 

1909,  was  one  of  the  party — himself  a red-shirted  miner  in  California 
for  years  before  when  there  still  were  “deadfalls”  in  the  saloons  along 
the  waterfront  of  ’Frisco,  and  when  a man  could  spend  at.  Placerville 
on  Sunday  most  of  the  gold  he  had  washed  out  of  the  rich  gulches  dur- 
ing the  week. 


106 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1864 


Father  Lacombe  was  frankly  delighted  with  his 
lot;  St.  Albert  was  becoming  “trop  civilise”  for  him, 
and  his  happy  experience  in  the  plains-Cree  camp 
had  unsettled  him  for  the  mission-routine.  “I  was 
dismissed  from  the  prefecture  of  St.  Albert  and  given 
a free  field  to  course  after  the  Crees  and  Blackfeet  on 
the  prairies.  Behold  me  in  my  element!  Laetatus 
sum  in  his  quae  dicta  sunt  mihi !” 

With  all  the  ardours  of  his  warm  nature  Father 
Lacombe  burned  to  reach  every  tribe  on  the  plains — 
group  after  group,  to  gather  these  poor  nomads  in 
fresh  colonies  to  live  there  in  pastoral  contentment 
and  certainty  of  food.  As  each  settlement  was 
formed  it  would  be  his  aim  to  turn  it  over  to  some  of 
his  younger  brethren,  while  he  pushed  on  again  into 
the  wilds  with  his  Red  Cross  flag  and  his  plough  to 
bring  into  Christian  submission  still  other  bands  of 
savages. 


X 


Father  Lacombe  was  now  to  be  the  missionary 
free-lance  of  the  plains — to  come  and  go  as  he  would. 
It  is  with  difficulty  we  follow  the  red  and  white 
gleams  of  his  flag  during  the  next  six  years.  It  was 
constantly  appearing  at  the  most  unexpected  points 
on  the  prairie  between  the  Bow  River  and  the  Peace, 
the  foothills  and  the  Saskatchewan  Forks. 

This  was  his  immense  hunting-ground  for  souls — 
an  area  inhabited  by  eight  different  tribes — and  his 
fearlessness,  energy  and  daring  there  so  matched 
those  qualities  in  the  bravest  of  their  chiefs  that  they 
came  to  regard  him  as  a great  Christian  medicine- 
man. 

Yet  there  must  have  been  other  qualities  in  him 
more  noticeable.  For  the  Indian,  when  he  names  a 
white  man,  tries  to  sum  up  in  one  phrase  the  most 
striking  qualities  of  the  man — and  to  the  Crees  Father 
Lacombe  was  always  known  in  this  period  as  Ka - 
miyo-atchakwe  (The  Man-of-the-Beautiful-Soul) . 
To  the  various  Blackfeet  tribes  he  was  Arsous-kitsi- 
rarpi  (The  Man-of-the-Good-Heart) . 

On  January  17,  1865,  he  left  St.  Albert  with  his 
man  Alexis  and  four  good  dogs  hauling  a toboggan- 
sleigh  on  which  they  had  all  the  equipment  necessary 
for  several  weeks — blankets  and  buffalo-robes  for 

107 


108 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1865 


sleeping  in,  an  axe,  Alexis’  gun  and  provisions  of 
dried  meat  for  both  dogs  and  men  . . . “Et  puis, 

nous  voila  en  marcher 

At  Fort  Edmonton  Mr.  Christie’s  hand  was  taken 
in  greeting,  as  the  friendly  Factor  wished  them  God- 
speed. They  pushed  on,  breaking  the  trail  for  the 
dogs  where  it  was  necessary.  The  trip  was  made 
without  hardship  until  the  third  morning  out,  when 
they  woke  to  a heavy  snow  storm  and  cutting  wind. 
The  morning  meal  was  eaten  quickly,  for  they  re- 
solved to  reach  the  Cree  camp  near  the  Red  Deer 
River  that  night. 

“Marche,  Pappillon!  Marches , mes  chiensf 9 the 
little  missionary  urged  in  encouragement,  and  his 
good  dogs  set  off  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind,  the  travel- 
lers in  turn  breaking  the  way  for  them  with  snow- 
shoes.  There  was  “a  sweet  zephyr  blowing,  and  the 
temperature  must  have  been  forty  degrees  below 
zero,”  Father  Lacombe  recalls. 

Men  talk  little  on  these  trips:  there  was  but  an 
occasional,  “Are  you  cold,  Alexis?”  and  “Not  yet — 
but  you,  mon  Pere?” — “Courage!  I’m  holding  out 
well.” 

Nibbling  at  dried  meat  instead  of  pausing  for  a 
meal  they  pushed  on  and  reached  the  Crees’  camp  at 
night. 

“A  person  must  have  experienced  a similar  arrival 
to  have  any  idea  of  this,”  Father  Lacombe  writes  in 
his  Memoirs.  “The  darkness,  the  deafening  howls 
of  the  dogs,  the  yells  of  the  Crees,  the  remains  of 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


109 


butchered  animals  lying  about — and  then  the  cold 
which  devours  youl” 

But  a Christian  chief — Abraham  Kiyiwin — who 
recognized  the  priest  at  once  drew  him  into  his  tent 
and  made  the  two  rest  there  after  they  had  eaten  a 
steaming  dish  of  buffalo-meat.  Even  though  the  hour 
was  late,  some  of  the  men  came  to  talk  with  the 
Blackrobe,  squatting  about  him  on  the  robes  near  the 
fire.  He  quickly  dismissed  them  however ; he  wanted 
“a  pleasant  smoke,  a bit  of  prayer  and  then — to  bed.” 

But  not  to  sleep,  with  the  dogs — “a  band  of  thieves” 
— prowling  around  the  tent  half  the  night!  In  a 
dozing  state  he  heard  one  gnaw  at  a bone  close  by — 
and  he  sleepily  wonders  if  they  would  tear  his  own 
body  with  their  strong  white  teeth.  But  he  is  too 
tired  to  continue  the  speculation — “C’est  egal:  on 
dort ” — He  drops  to  sleep. 

For  six  weeks  he  laboured  among  these  Crees,  and 
here  as  always  on  the  plains-mission  his  days  passed 
in  a regular  routine.  If  he  could  get  a good  tepee, 
where  there  was  no  snow,  or  the  smoke  was  not  too 
thick  he  would  set  up  a little  portable  chapel  and  be- 
gin the  day  with  Mass.  After  his  breakfast,  eaten 
from  a rude  dish  as  he  squatted  on  the  ground,  he  as- 
sembled the  women,  teaching  them  catechism,  prayers 
or  hymns. 

Fifty  women  with  almost  as  many  infants! — and 
when  these  last  began  to  cry — “I  assure  you,”  says 
Father  Lacombe,  “it  was  interesting — something  then 
to  try  your  patience.” 


110 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1865 


At  noon  he  was  accustomed  to  call  the  children, 
both  hoys  and  girls  about  him  and  spent  the  afternoon 
teaching  them.  At  least  with  them,  he  says,  he  en- 
joyed peace  and  tranquillity.  After  the  encampment 
had  taken  their  evening  meal  his  little  bell  was  rung 
by  Alexis  passing  up  and  down  through  the  camp 
like  a crier,  inviting  all  the  men  to  the  priest’s  tent. 

“Ah,  this  is  something  more  serious  and  dignified,” 
he  recalls  in  his  Memoirs.  “They  come  with  their 
pipes — sometimes  we  smoked  a calumet,  the  cere- 
monial pipe.  Then  I take  on  an  attitude  more  ma- 
jestic, more  reserved,  for  these  are  the  warriors,  and 
they  love  ceremony.  After  each  one  has  taken  his 
place  according  to  his  rank,  I intone  in  my  finest 
voice  a hymn.  Then  the  sermon. 

“Then  all  to  our  knees — some  squat  ungratefully 
on  their  heels!  We  pray — we  sing,  and  at  the  last 
we  pass  about  the  calumet,  whose  smoke  like  incense 
crowns  the  religious  service.” 

In  addition  to  these  meetings  the  missionary  vis- 
ited the  sick  to  be  found  in  most  camps,  and  when  he 
could,  he  administered  healing  drugs  to  them.  Other 
diplomatic  visits  were  paid  to  pagans  of  the  tribe,  of 
whom  there  were  usually  some  in  each  camp.  The 
most  interesting  of  the  Cree  pagans — Wihaskokiseyin 
— Chief  Sw^eet  Grass,  head  chief  of  the  nation,  was 
in  this  camp,  but  to  Father  Lacombe  as  to  other 
priests  he  would  only  reply  on  religious  matters : 
“Leave  me  in  peace.  When  my  time  comes  I will 
tell  you.”  Notwithstanding  this  withholding  of  his 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


111 


personal  adherence  he  was  one  of  the  best  friends  the 
priest  had  on  the  plains. 

Before  his  departure  Father  Lacombe  held  a coun- 
cil in  which  he  outlined  his  new  plan  of  action,  in- 
viting the  councillors  to  help  him  select  a place  as 
a permanent  mission  for  the  Cree  Indians.  They 
decided  upon  Kamaheskutewegak — “The-prairie- 
which-comes-out-to-the-river,”  or  as  it  was  named  by 
Father  Lacombe,1  St.  Paul  des  Cris. 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  St.  Albert  at  the  end 
of  February  a deputation  of  Blackfeet  came  for  him, 
begging  him  to  go  with  them.  Their  tribe  was  again 
stricken  with  a mysterious  disease.  They  were  help- 
less and  panic-stricken.  Father  Lacombe  hurried 
out  to  their  camp  and  found  them  down  with  typhoid. 
It  was  not  serious,  however.  There  were  few  deaths; 
and  after  a couple  of  weeks  he  could  return  to  St. 
Albert. 

Here  another  call  to  Rocky  Mountain  House 
awaited  him.  Other  bands  of  Blackfeet  were  down 
with  the  same  disease.  He  went,  and  ministered  to 
them  for  some  weeks. 

Early  in  May  he  rafted  down  the  Saskatchewan  to 
the  site  of  his  new  establishment,2  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  east  of  Fort  Edmonton.  The  Company 

1 This  old  Mission  station  is  now  named  Brousseau. 

2 Father  Lacombe  has  in  his  possession  still  the  Journal  of  St.  Paul 
de  Cris,  written  on  a sheaf  of  foolscap  pages  doubled  to  about  four 
inches  in  width,  with  a tattered  brown  Manila  cover.  This,  although 
not  complete,  keeps  definite  record  of  many  of  the  goings  and  com- 
ings of  Father  Lacombe  in  those  days — and  fortunately  so,  for  even 


112 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1865 


had  objected  to  this  site,  claiming  that  it  would  draw 
away  the  Indians  from  Fort  Pitt. 

But  the  Crees  favoured  it.  Likewise  the  soil  was 
so  fertile  and  so  easily  broken  that  Father  Lacombe 
determined  to  locate  there  in  the  hope  of  getting  some 
of  the  Metis  and  Indians  to  till  the  land  as  at  St. 
Albert.  He  found  a large  encampment  of  Crees, 
faithful  to  their  promise,  awaiting  him.  They 
greeted  him  with  enthusiasm,  running  into  the  water 
to  pull  his  raft  ashore. 

On  this  he  and  Alexis  had  fifty  bushels  of  potatoes, 
seed-grain,  a plow  and  provisions.  His  brother 
Gaspard  and  one  Noel  Courtepatte  had  conveyed 
other  provisions  over-land  in  ox-carts.  As  the  multi- 
tude of  Crees  looked  on  with  the  interest  of  pros- 
pective owners  the  raft  was  unloaded. 

On  the  following  day  the  eager  young  missionary 
started  to  plow.  The  women  and  children  flocked 
behind  him,  crushing  the  earth  with  their  hands  into 
fine  particles.  A couple  of  days  later  when  the 
ground  was  prepared  it  was  the  women  again  who 
dropped  the  potatoes  and  vegetable-seeds. 

The  men  tacitly  objected  to  taking  any  active  part, 
and  Father  Lacombe  soon  found  it  was  not  Metis 
he  was  dealing  with  here.  He  put  himself  to  work 
this  spring  quite  as  energetically  as  at  St.  Albert, 
but  with  less  success  and  half-hearted  assistance.  En- 


his  own  memory,  so  retentive  ordinarily  of  details,  has  but  an  incom- 
plete record  of  these  days.  His  rapidity  of  movement  confused  even 
himself. 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


118 


feebled  perhaps  by  his  unusual  hardships  and  exer- 
tions of  the  past  four  months  he  fell  ill.  The  third 
week  in  May  he  writes  to  Bishop  Tache: 

“The  heat  of  spring  has  changed  the  malady  of 
the  winter  to  a form  of  dysentery  which  carries  off  all 
whom  it  attacks.  After  ten  days  I am  almost  over- 
come by  it.  All  our  work  is  stopped,  and  I can  only 
minister  to  the  sick.  If  this  sickness  carries  me  off, 
at  least  my  sacrifice  is  made.  I will  die  happy  among 
my  neophytes,  ministering  to  them  as  long  as  I have 
strength.” 

But  he  gradually  recovered.  Then  as  the  Crees 
went  off  to  the  prairies  to  hunt  buffalo  he  returned 
to  St.  Albert  to  convalesce. 

In  June  he  returned,  bringing  his  brother.  To- 
gether they  improved  the  “skeleton  of  a house”  built 
the  previous  winter  by  Gaspard  and  Alexis.  Gas- 
pard  returned  to  St.  Albert.  For  Father  Lacombe 
it  was: 

“Hurrah  for  the  prairies!  We  all  went.  We 
traversed  creek  after  creek,  swollen  now  to  torrents; 
but  these  were  no  obstacles  to  hungry  Indians  sigh- 
ing for  fresh  feasts  of  buffalo-meat.  . . . Hey! 

I am  in  my  element.  My  cart,  my  three  horses,  my 
good  Alexis,  and  our  Blackfoot  cook  with  whom  I 
am  studying  the  Blackfoot  language,  my  tent,  my 
chapel-case,  my  catechisms  and  objects  of  piety — 
behold,  my  church  and  presbytery!”  he  writes  to  the 
Forets. 

“To  tell  the  truth,  I am  as  happy  as  a Prince  of 


114 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1865 


the  Church.  My  people,  about  half  of  whom  are 
Christian  and  men  of  great  prestige  as  hunters — they 
respect  me,  they  love  me.  I feel  like  a king  here,  a 
new  Moses  in  the  midst  of  this  new  camp  of  Israel. 
It  is  not  the  manna  of  the  desert  with  which 
we  are  nourished,  but  it  is  the  delicious  buffalo- 
meat  of  the  prairie  which  the  good  Master  gives 
us.” 

When  they  had  travelled  three  days  toward  the 
great  sea  of  the  prairies  the  scouts  ranging  ahead 
wheeled  back  to  signal  to  them — a herd  of  buffalo  was 
ahead ! On  the  moment  came  the  order  to  pitch  camp. 
The  women  and  old  men  hastened  about  this  duty, 
while  the  hunters  saddled  their  ponies.  Guns, 
powder,  balls,  whip  and  lasso — they  saw  all  were  in 
place.  Soon  they  were  ready  for  the  command — 
the  Hunt  began! 

Apart  from  the  buffalo-hunts,  which  soon  lost  their 
novelty,  the  life  on  the  plains  was  full  of  delight  for 
Father  Lacombe.  By  day  the  wide  green  prairies 
drenched  in  radiant  sunshine  were  pleasing.  At 
night,  when  the  fury  of  the  hunt  was  passed  and 
darkness  put  an  end  to  the  toil  of  the  women,  the 
scene  was  still  beautiful,  day  lingering  long  above  the 
purple-black  expanse  of  the  plains.  Then  he  tells 
us: 

“Seated  on  the  fresh  grass,  with  the  vaulted  skies 
sown  with  stars  for  our  House  of  adoration,  silence 
falls — the  ravens  and  the  little  birds  are  asleep,  but 
man  keeps  watch.  It  is  then  our  songs  of  good-night 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


115 


are  sung  to  the  Great  Spirit — and  how  beautiful  seem 
these  hymns  of  the  children  of  the  wilderness ! 

“And  there  amidst  them,  happy  in  his  lot,  see  this 
man  in  a soutane.  How  eloquent  and  fine  it  seems 
to  him  to  say  to  them  in  their  own  language — taught 
by  these  fierce  warriors — ‘Go,  and  sleep  tranquilly, 
my  children.  May  the  Great  Spirit  bless  you.  Au 
revoir — till  morning.’  ” 

• •••••••• 

Father  Lacombe,  desirous  of  dividing  his  new  min- 
istry impartially  between  the  Blackfoot  nation  and 
the  Crees,  directed  his  way  south  toward  a large  camp 
of  the  former  in  October.  He  stayed  some  time  with 
the  Piegans  and  Bloods  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Red 
Deer  River  after  he  left  St.  Albert  on  October  23: 
then  moved  on  to  the  camp  of  Chief  Natous  near 
Three  Ponds,1  where  he  arrived  at  the  close  of  No- 
vember. He  was  unaccompanied  by  Alexis  and  by 
a mere  chance  his  young  brother  Gaspard  was  not 
with  him. 

Father  Lacombe  had  already  undergone  many 
hardships  of  the  trail.  He  was  now  to  realise  the 
crowning  hazard  of  Indian  life — “a  terrible  accident, 
which,”  as  Father  Andre  wrote  in  a letter  2 of  Octo- 
ber 26,  1866,  to  Father  LeFloch,  “came  near  remov- 
ing one  of  the  most  courageous  and  intrepid  of  our 
missionaries  . . . Pere  Lacombe.” 

1 The  scene  of  this  battle  was  near  the  Battle  River,  some  miles  east 
of  the  present  town  of  Hobbema. 

2 This  letter  is  published  in  Vol.  IV  of  the  Quebec  Rapports , in  that 
portion  devoted  to  chronicles  of  St,  Boniface  diocese. 


XI 


Food  having  become  scarce  in  the  south,  Natous 
with  other  Blackfoot  chiefs  had  led  his  band  to  the 
extreme  northern  boundary  of  their  hunting  ground. 
Camped  a short  distance  away  were  two  other  bands 
of  his  nation,  which  Father  Lacombe  planned  to  visit 
when  he  had  concluded  his  mission  to  the  band  of 
Natous.  The  possibility  of  any  warlike  interruption 
to  his  plans  did  not  occur  to  him.  He  was,  however, 
to  have  his  entire  plans  for  the  winter  upset  by  a re- 
newal of  the  war  between  the  Crees  and  Blackfeet. 

This  battle  took  place  on  the  night  of  December 
the  fourth.  Father  Lacombe  was  quartered  in  the 
lodge  of  Chief  Natous.  He  and  his  savage  host 
slumbered  soundly  on  buffalo  robes,  their  feet  to  the 
fire.  ...  Suddenly  harsh  sounds  forced  them- 
selves to  the  chief’s  consciousness.  Natous  leaped  to 
his  feet. 

“Assinaw!  Assinaw !” — The  Crees!  The  Crees! — 
he  cried  instantly.  His  old  wife  rushed  with  him 
from  the  tent,  Natous  hastily  priming  his  musket. 
In  the  darkness  outside  a deadly  round  of  musketry 
crackled,  then  thundered,  while  weird  lights  quivered 
through  the  inky  blackness : the  Crees  had  come  pre- 
pared for  slaughter.  Father  Lacombe  was  shocked 
into  rigidity  for  an  instant:  outside  the  voice  of 

116 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


117 

Natous  rose  rallying  his  warriors  to  the  defense  of 
their  camp. 

The  firelit  lodge  of  the  chief  made  a clear  target 
for  the  enemy.  Suddenly  two  poles  snapped  with 
the  impact  of  balls  that  whizzed  past  Father 
Lacombe.  As  one  in  a stupor  he  noted  smoking  gun- 
wads  fall  near  him.  The  soutane  he  had  removed 
for  the  night,  he  now  hastily  threw  on  over  his  deer 
skin  garments;  snatching  up  the  surplice  and  stole, 
and  reverently  kissing  the  cross  of  his  Order  before 
putting  it  in  his  belt,  he  prepared  to  move. 

In  accordance  with  the  discipline  of  religious 
Orders  he  paused  to  make  a brief,  generous  offering 
of  his  life  to  his  Maker,  from  whom  death  or  life 
might  come  that  night.  Then  he  was  himself  again, 
alert  and  fearless.  A small  sack  containing  the  holy 
oils  he  hung  at  his  side.  Taking  up  his  Red  Cross 
flag  he  went  out  of  the  tent.  Outside,  he  found  him- 
self in  a hell  of  darkness  and  uncertainty  and  lust  for 
blood.  Many  of  the  young  Blackfoot  warriors  were 
away  hunting  buffalo,  but  those  who  remained  under 
Natous  fought  on  recklessly. 

Above  the  din  rose  the  voice  of  Natous  animating 
his  followers  and  defying  the  enemy.  Father 
Lacombe,  incensed  by  the  treacherous  attack,  shouted 
an  indignant  command  to  the  Crees  to  withdraw. 
Some  of  them  were  Christian,  he  felt,  and  would  obey 
him.  . . . 

His  voice  rang  out  from  a chest  strong  and  deep 
as  a Viking’s.  In  the  hideous  din  of  the  carnage  it 


118 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1865 


was  entirely  lost.  The  old  warriors  were  crying  out 
encouragement  and  advice  to  the  young  men.  Some 
of  the  braves  had  raised  wild  war-chants,  and  on  both 
sides  came  the  fiendish  yells  of  unbridled  passion. 
Father  Lacombe  abandoned  his  futile  effort. 

The  women,  feverishly  trying  with  knives  and 
hands  to  dig  trenches  wherein  to  hide  their  children 
and  themselves,  raised  their  voices  from  time  to  time 
in  lamentation.  Within  the  camp  in  the  darkness 
the  living  fell  over  the  dead,  and  the  wounded  pleaded 
for  help. 

To  make  the  night  more  appalling,  the  frenzied 
barking  of  the  dogs  rose  hideously,  blended  with  the 
pitiful  whinnies  of  frightened  or  dying  horses.  The 
night  was  profoundly  dark,  unlit  by  moon  or  stars. 
Only  the  sinister  flash  of  the  musketry  lit  the  painful 
scene. 

Father  Lacombe  traversed  the  camping-ground  over 
and  over  again,  inspiring  the  warriors  to  their  bravest 
efforts.  He  sought  out  the  wounded,  when  he  could 
find  them  in  the  darkness.  A woman  standing 
near  him  at  the  door  of  her  lodge  fell  pierced  by  a 
bullet;  he  baptized  her  and  prayed  with  her  till  she 
died. 

Next  morning  she  was  found  scalped;  a daring 
enemy  had  come  into  the  lodge  at  some  time  through 
the  night  and  carried  off  the  coveted  trophy.  A 
thieving  Assinaboine  in  the  act  of  pillaging  the  chief’s 
tent  was  pierced  by  a ball  and  fell  across  the  pile  of 
robes  grasping  Father  Lacombe’s  breviary.  Back 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


119 


and  forward  through  the  darkness  an  intermittent 
rain  of  balls  fell.  Father  Lacombe,  moving  contin- 
ually with  words  of  encouragement  to  the  warriors, 
seemed  to  bear  a charmed  life. 

At  last,  drawn  by  the  sound  of  the  battle,  the  Black- 
foot  warriors  of  the  other  bands  came  to  the  rescue, 
though  not  before  the  enemy  had  practically  com- 
pleted sacking  the  camp. 

One  party  of  the  rescuers  was  led  by  Crowfoot,  a 
young  man  already  for  his  wisdom  and  bravery  made 
a chief  among  his  people.  In  the  darkness  he  came 
up  to  Father  Lacombe.  A flash  from  a gun  lit  up 
his  face,  showing  it  still  and  strong. 

“Who  are  you?”  the  priest  asked,  for  the  face  was 
new  to  him. 

“Crowfoot,”  the  warrior  replied,  and  Father 
Lacombe,  rejoicing  in  the  arrival  of  the  noted  young 
warrior,  urged  him  to  do  his  best  for  the  safety  of 
his  people. 

Three  times  that  night  the  Crees  and  their  Assina- 
boine  recruits  were  repulsed  from  the  hillock  behind 
which  the  Blackfeet  had  secured  cover,  but  dawn  still 
found  them  fighting.  Before  this,  twenty-five  lodges 
— about  half  of  the  camp — had  been  destroyed. 

Grateful  for  returning  day,  the  Man  of  Prayer, 
in  stole  and  surplice  dingy  with  the  smoke  of  battle, 
raising  his  crucifix  in  one  hand  and  the  Red  Cross 
flag  in  the  other,  now  called  on  his  Blackfoot  hosts 
to  cease  firing.  Astounded  at  his  actions,  they  com- 
plied and  watched  him  walk  deliberately  out  from  the 


120 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1865 


broken  circle  of  tents  toward  the  enemy,  holding  his 
crucifix  aloft  and  waving  his  white  and  red  flag. 

The  Indian  warriors,  trained  to  ambush  in  battle, 
marvelled  at  his  bravery.  Their  Man-of-the-Good- 
Heart  had  always  been  to  them  a great  medicine-man. 
Now  he  seemed  a god  come  to  their  defence  as  he 
moved  slowly  through  the  mist,  advancing  directly 
upon  the  concealed  enemy.  The  heroism  of  the  action 
was  unconscious,  characteristic,  superb. 

“Here!  you  Crees.  Kamiyo-atchakwe  speaks! 
• • • 

He  called  aloud  again  and  again,  but  his  Crees  did 
not  hear  him;  and  a fog,  heavy  with  low-lying  battle- 
smoke,  hung  like  a curtain  shutting  him  out  from 
their  vision. 

He  called  to  the  unseen  enemy;  he  waved  his  flag, 
but  his  efforts  were  unavailing.  The  irregular  fire 
continued,  bullets  whizzed  past  his  head  and  ploughed 
in  the  ground  beside  him.  The  Blackfeet  called  out 
to  him,  begging  him  to  return,  when  suddenly  a ball, 
which  had  already  touched  the  earth,  rebounded  to 
his  shoulder  and  glancing  off  struck  his  forehead. 
The  wound  was  a mere  scratch,  but  the  shock  was  so 
great  he  staggered  and  lost  his  footing. 

The  Blackfeet  believed  him  wounded — and  a new 
wave  of  anger  swept  over  their  hearts.  . . . The 

Crees  had  killed  their  friend,  Arsous-kitsi-rarpi ! — 
the  Man-of-the-Good-Heart — who  had  nursed  them 
through  the  typhoid  and  who  was  a hundred  times 
endeared  to  them  now  by  his  unique  bravery. 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


121 


“Hee-yi-ho!” — they  raised  their  war-cry;  and  flung 
themselves  out  upon  the  Crees — no  longer  repulsing 
attacks  but  driving  one  home  to  the  heart  of  the 
enemy.  From  tepee  to  bluff — to  coulee,  they  slipped 
over  the  thin  snow,  the  Crees  advancing  and  retreat- 
ing, pursuing  the  same  tactics.  The  battle  lingered 
while  the  fog  lay  on  the  land,  and  it  was  long  after 
dawn  before  a Blaekfoot  warrior  who  lay  near  the 
enemy  cried  out  to  them  with  scorn  in  a lull  of  firing : 

“You  have  wounded  your  Blackrobe,  Dogs!  Have 
you  not  done  enough?” 

When  this  startling  word  ran  through  the  ranks 
of  the  Crees,  the  firing  ceased.  . . . Was  it  true 

that  they  had  killed  their  father,  the  Man  of  Prayer, 
the  friend  of  Itowand  and  of  Christie,  the  big  white 
chiefs? 

The  battle  received  a sudden  check,  and  the  Crees 
did  not  wait  to  meet  their  Blackrobe,  but  speedily 
withdrew  in  confusion. 

The  engagement  had  lasted  seven  or  eight  hours, 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  time  a disorderly  skirmish. 
Of  the  Blackfeet,  Chief  Natous  was  badly  wounded, 
about  twelve  persons  were  killed,  two  children  stolen, 
and  fifteen  men  and  women  wounded,  some  fatally. 
The  camp  had  been  pillaged  of  meat  and  robes,  and 
twenty-five  lodges  destroyed.  Their  enemies  carried 
ten  dead  warriors  away  from  the  snowy  battlefield, 
while  fully  fifteen  others  were  wounded. 

The  following  day,  notwithstanding  their  fatigue 
and  the  ills  of  the  wounded,  the  Chiefs  ordered  the 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1865 


m 

camp  moved;  ponies,  human  beings  and  dogs  were 
soon  in  line  of  march  over  the  snowy  trails  to  another 
and  larger  camp  of  their  nation  twenty  miles  away. 

Father  Lacombe,  like  many  of  his  Blackfoot 
friends,  had  lost  in  the  battle  all  but  what  was  on 
his  person  and  the  rescued  breviary.  Fully  two 
hundred  horses  had  been  killed  or  stolen  by  the  Crees, 
among  them  the  two  owned  by  Father  Lacombe. 
The  Indians,  who  at  least  never  lacked  in  hospitality 
or  generosity,  gave  him  robes  to  keep  him  warm  and 
lent  him  a horse  to  continue  his  journey. 

He  stayed  with  Natous5  band  about  ten  days 
longer,  consoling  them  and  caring  for  the  wounded. 
Then,  with  three  Indians  as  companions,  he  set  out 
for  Rocky  Mountain  House,  whither  he  had  sent  a 
courier  in  the  autumn  to  make  a rendezvous  with  the 
Indians  for  Christmas. 

It  was  a journey  of  several  days  during  severe 
weather  and  over  bad  trails.  The  food  of  the  little 
party  consisted  of  an  occasional  partridge  or  rabbit, 
a few  leathery  pieces  of  dried  meat,  gnawed  at  by 
day,  and  at  night  boiled  in  snow-water.  The  last 
day  found  them  fasting. 

When  the  little  cavalcade  finally  drew  up  before 
the  gates  of  the  post,  Father  Lacombe  emerged  from 
his  buffalo  robe,  disfigured  with  stains  and  dirt,  and 
stepped  from  his  horse  fairly  into  the  arms  of  his 
astonished  friend,  Richard  Hardisty.1 

i The  late  Richard  Hardisty  (later  Chief  Factor  Hardisty)  was  a 
member  of  a family  long  connected  with  the  service  of  the  Company  in 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


123 


Shocked  at  finding  Father  Lacombe  in  this  guise, 
the  warm-hearted  trader  began  to  make  queries  in  a 
startled  voice — when  the  other,  with  his  irrepressible 
humour  bubbling  up  again,  reassured  him: 

“Don’t  cry,  don’t  cry,  my  frien’.  I’ve  been  to  war; 
but  now — you  see — I am  back.” 

There  was  reason,  however,  for  Mr.  Hardisty’s 
alarm.  Father  Lacombe  was  about  at  the  end  of  his 
resources  and  his  friend  set  about  restoring  them. 

“Richard  Hardisty  treated  me  like  a brother  that 
day.  I felt  so  sick  and  tired  and  hungry  when  I 
got  to  Mountain  House  that  I was  ready  to  lie  down 
in  the  snow  and  die.  But  he  took  our  miserable  party 
in  before  his  big  fire,  and  warmed  and  fed  us  and 
clothed  me,  and  I always  feel  since  then  that  he  saved 
my  life,”  Father  Lacombe  recalls. 

We  will  leave  him  there  happily  seated  before  the 
blazing  chimney-fire  of  Meekoostakwan  (the  Man- 
with-the-Red-Hair) . The  glowing  blaze,  like  a warm 
soul  in  a homely  person,  beautified  the  whole  dingy 
interior  of  the  post — the  smoky  dark  rafters,  the  log 
walls  and  rude  woodland  furnishings. 

the  Southern  district,  and  was  for  several  years  in  charge  of  Edmonton 
district.  He  was  a brother  of  Lady  Strathcona. 


XII 


It  was  Christmas  week  at  Fort  Edmonton  in  the 
year  1865,  and  within  the  snowy  quadrangle  of  the 
Fort  preparations  for  the  home- joys  of  Christmas 
were  under  way. 

Outside  the  gates  were  some  Cree  teepees  whose 
owners  had  brought  a rumour  of  Father  Lacombe 
being  killed  in  a battle  near  Three  Ponds.  They 
even  showed  a capot  like  his  taken  out  of  his  tent, 
they  said,  and  with  several  bullet-holes  in  it.  The 
rumour  was  too  terrible  to  be  given  credence,  how- 
ever, and  was  set  down  as  an  Indian  yarn. 

At  the  Big  House,  straying  half-breed  children 
found  the  kitchen  for  the  time  converted  to  a Para- 
dise of  good  dishes  and  savoury  odours  with  Murdo 
MacKenzie,  the  cook  from  “bonny  Stornaway,”  pre- 
siding. Elsewhere  the  steward — Malcolm  Groat — 
saw  to  it  that  extra  rations  of  fish  and  buffalo  meat 
and  grease  were  portioned  out,  and  to  this  some  grog 
added  to  drink  the  Factor’s  health.  In  her  own 
quarters,  Mrs.  Christie,  the  granddaughter  of  fine  old 
“Credo”  Sinclair  of  York  Factory,  planned  a Santa 
Claus  for  her  little  ones. 

A dog-cariole  drawn  at  a merry  trot  by  good  dogs 
and  followed  by  two  sleds  with  their  drivers  came 
through  the  valley  across  the  river.  It  was  too  cold 

m 


1865 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


125 


then  for  men  to  linger  on  the  gossip-benches  by  the 
flagstaff  outside  the  southern  gate,  but  the  dog-train 
was  awaited  with  curiosity  by  those  within  the  Fort. 

Several  traders  had  already  arrived  from  the  out- 
posts and  no  one  else  was  likely  to  make  the  Fort 
for  Christmas  but  Richard  Hardisty  of  Mountain 
House.  One  of  the  runners  resembled  him.  . . . 

But  who  did  he  have  comfortably  wrapped  in  buf- 
falo-robes in  the  cariole? 

“You  never  know  what  you  will  meet  around  the 
bend — ” is  a proverb  of  the  voyageur  by  land  or 
water  trail;  and  “You  never  know  who  will  turn  up 
next”  might  well  be  the  word  of  the  masters  of  Hud- 
son’s Bay  posts. 

When  the  dog-train  drew  up  at  the  Fort  and 
Father  Lacombe  stepped  out  of  the  robes  and  wrap- 
pings, there  was  boisterous  delight  in  the  greetings 
of  his  friends.  . . . Was  ever  an  arrival  more 

timely  ? 

Mr.  Christie  ushered  the  two  arrivals  into  the  Big 
Flouse  and  the  little  knot  of  people  dispersed  to  their 
quarters.  Darkness  fell;  the  big  gates  were  clanged 
to,  and  the  bell  was  rung  for  the  evening  meal  and 
issuing  of  rations. 

••••••••• 

That  Christmas  Eve  the  brown  spaciousness  of  the 
mess-room  quivered  with  interest,  and  the  centre  of 
it  all — Murdo  MacKenzie  1 relates — was  the  worn 

1 When  I met  him  forty-five  years  after  this  Christmas  Eve, — still  out 
of  the  range  of  modern  Progress,  still  a cook  in  the  employ  of  the  big 
Company  in  its  Peace  River  district. 


126 


’FATHER  LACOMBE 


1865 


young  priest  in  the  ragged  greasy  soutane,  who 
looked  as  though  he  had  known  hardships  in  plenty 
since  he  departed. 

The  Gentlemen’s  mess-room  of  the  Big  House, 
where  this  dinner  was  given,  was  a fine  room — noted 
alike  for  spaciousness  and  hospitality.  Every  one 
who  visited  Edmonton  House  from  Paul  Kane’s  time 
onward  recorded  its  rugged  pretentiousness.  There 
was  nothing  finer  in  the  west,  except  the  old  Coun- 
cil-room of  Norway  House. 

Time,  for  their  isolated  kingdom,  was  regulated 
by  the  great  clock  which  hung  on  the  mess-room  wall. 
Pictures  hung  there,  too,  good  pictures,  and  swords 
from  the  Old  Land,  and  buffalo-horns  and  moose- 
heads  from  the  plains  and  forest  of  the  New.  There 
was  a cavernous  fireplace  and  heavy  mantel,  about 
which  for  close  on  to  fifty  years  the  gentlemen  of 
Edmonton  Plouse  had  lingered  in  chat  after  dinner. 

At  one  side  was  a table  laden  with  the  brass  candle- 
sticks Murdo  MacKenzie  kept  in  polished  array  to 
light  the  dinner-table  each  night.  Two  immense 
heaters  brought  from  England  by  way  of  the  Hudson 
Bay  were  required  to  heat  the  room. 

“Ah,  it  was  a grand  place  altogether,”  Murdo 
recalls. 

On  this  Christmas  Eve,  while  the  Gentlemen 
listened,  Mr.  Christie  plied  his  friends  with  questions, 
and  Murdo  lingered  as  he  passed  about  the  dishes. 
He  recalls  Father  Lacombe  telling  how  a bullet 
whizzed  over  his  head  as  he  bent  to  lift  an  object 


1866 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


127 


from  the  floor  of  the  camp,  and  showing  where  that 
reflected  bullet  struck  his  shoulder. 

To  most  that  night  would  have  seemed  a terrifying 
experience,  yet  as  we  read  in  his  letter  to  his  Superior- 
General,  Monsignor  Fabre,  Father  Lacombe  could 
say: 

“I  was  never  less  afraid  than  I was  during  this 
combat.” 

But  even  as  he  talked  the  Star  of  Peace  and  Good- 
will was  on  the  hills  with  the  old  message  the  angels 
sang  to  the  shepherds.  . . . The  story-telling 

and  the  dinner  ended,  and  Father  Lacombe  and 
Father  Andre  made  their  way  to  the  confessional, 
where  the  quick-tempered,  child-hearted  but  now  sub- 
dued, voyageurs  waited  to  ease  their  minds  and  make 
their  hearts  ready  for  the  coming  of  the  Child. 

At  midnight  the  bell  pealed  Yuletide  greetings,  and 
almost  every  one  in  the  Fort  came  together  in  the 
church.  The  congregation  listened  there  to  the  story 
of  the  Child-King  told  in  English,  French  and  Cree. 
They  were  wholesome  western  men,  vigorous  crea- 
tures of  strong  passions  and  ready  faith,  and  they 
accepted  happily  the  mysterious  union  of  weakness 
and  omnipotence,  the  tale  of  Love  stooping  to  earth 
to  win  it  otherwise  than  by  force. 


During  the  year  1866  work  went  on  more  or  less 
steadily  at  St.  Paul  de  Cris.  Again  a small  crop 
was  put  in  and  the  shelter  thrown  up  in  1865  im- 


128 


TATHER  LACOMBE 


1866 


proved.  The  mission  became  a stopping-place  for 
priests  to  and  from  their  missions. 

In  the  spring  Gaspard  Lacombe,  who  with  the 
miners,  Little  and  Piler,  had  tired  of  gold-mining  on 
the  Saskatchewan,  bade  good-bye  to  his  brother,  rid- 
ing through  St.  Paul  de  Cris  on  his  way  to  St.  Boni- 
face. 

Father  Lacombe  asked  him  if  he  felt  any  desire  to 
join  him  in  mission  work.  The  young  fellow  half 
laughed,  half  shuddered  at  the  idea.  To  live  day 
after  day  in  garments  infested  with  vermin;  to  exist 
for  weeks  on  dry  meat  or  pemmican  without  tea — 
nothing  in  the  world,  he  felt,  could  tie  him  to  it,  and 
he  had  no  supernatural  impulse  to  impel  him. 

So  away  he  went  to  resume  a life  of  fruitless  con- 
tented wandering  from  the  Red  River  to  Mexico, 
from  the  Mississippi  to  the  coast. 

Most  of  the  year  of  1866  was  spent  by  Father 
Lacombe  on  the  prairies  with  his  Indians.  With  a 
few  weeks  of  rest  at  St.  Albert  after  his  eventful 
trip  to  the  Blackfeet,  he  set  out  by  dog-train  for  St. 
Paul  de  Cris.  His  only  companion  was  a quaint 
little  Irish- American  called  Jimmy-from-Cork,  who 
had  drifted  into  Fort  Edmonton  and  was  now  anxious 
to  make  his  way  to  the  Red  River.  This  man — 
Jimmy  McCarthy — who  was  to  make  himself  con- 
spicuous at  Fort  Garry  in  1870 — had  even  then  a 
varied  and  sombre  career  behind  him. 

Sam  Livingstone  and  Jimmy  Gibbons,  the  Forty- 
niners,  standing  on  the  river-bank  near  Victoria,  one 


Gold-washing  by  Miners  on  Saskatchewan,  near  Edmonton 


1866 


EATHER  LACOMBE 


129 


day  in  January,  1866,  as  Father  Lacombe  came  trot- 
ting behind  his  dog-train,  were  astounded  to  find  that 
the  little  man  snugly  wrapped  in  robes  in  Father 
Lacombe’s  dog-cariole  was  Jimmy-from-Cork! 

The  hospitable  miners  called  out  an  invitation  to 
the  travellers  to  share  their  mid-day  meal  with  them. 
Father  Lacombe — his  clumsy  soutane  tucked  up 
about  his  leather  trousers,  as  it  always  was  when  he 
travelled  behind  dogs — busied  himself  first  with  food 
for  the  animals.  But  his  genial  little  companion, 
Gibbons  recalls,  stepped  out  of  the  cariole  and  pat- 
ting the  priest  on  the  shoulder,  said  airily  to  his  hosts : 
“We’ve  had  a good  trip,  boys.  Father  Lacombe 
is  a damn  good  runner,  and  he  knows  that  Jimmy- 
from-Cork’ s legs  are  too  short  to  run.” 

Assuredly  fraternal  charity  and  the  frontier  brings 
strange  bed-fellows  together! 

Jimmy  was,  however,  but  a ship-in-the-night  in 
Father  Lacombe’s  life — one  never  hailed  again — and 
in  this  unlike  his  hosts  who  remained  his  friends  for 
theix  lifetime.  Livingstone  interested  him  greatly  as 
one  of  the  most  picturesque  figures  he  had  met  in  the 
west.  The  son  of  an  Anglican  rector  in  Ireland 
and  born  in  the  Yale  of  Avoca,  he  had  drifted  through 
the  United  States  to  the  Saskatchewan. 

He  was  a fine-looking  man,  brimful  of  Celtic  fire, 
with  grizzled  white  hair  worn  long,  down  on  his  shoul- 
ders after  the  fashion  of  his  old  friend,  Dr.  John 
McLoughlin,  the  ruler  of  Oregon.  Leather  trousers 
and  red  shirt,  and  a gay  handkerchief  knotted  about 


ISO 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1866 


his  throat  with  another  on  his  wide  sombrero  com- 
pleted in  Sam  Livingstone  a striking  picture  of  the 
frontiersman. 

In  February  of  this  year  Father  Lacombe,  going 
out  from  St.  Paul  with  Alexis,  made  a trip  north  to 
meet  some  bands  of  wood-Crees.  Following  the 
direction  of  moans  that  broke  the  quiet  of  their  camp 
one  night,  they  found  an  Indian  woman  who  had  fled 
from  her  husband’s  tent  when  he  brought  another 
wife  there,  and  after  wandering  all  night  and  day 
found  herself  again  at  the  abandoned  camp  of  her 
people. 

Her  forces  were  exhausted,  her  feet  frozen.  Mis- 
ery and  hardship  had  dried  her  breast,  and  when  her 
infant  hungered  there  his  cries  pierced  her  numbing 
senses,  prompting  her  vain  search  for  help.  Disap- 
pointed, she  had  lain  down  by  the  ashes  of  a camp-fire 
with  a prayer  to  the  Master  of  Life  to  spare  her  child. 

Her  people  had  only  changed  camp  that  day,  and 
by  hard  travelling  on  the  following  day  Father 
Lacombe  came  up  to  them.  The  worthless  husband 
refused  to  take  his  wife  or  child  to  his  tent  again,  but 
he  scurried  there  himself  with  the  lash  of  the  Black- 
robe’s  scorn  shaming  him  before  his  people.  The 
woman  was  taken  in  a dog-sleigh  to  St.  Albert,  where 
the  Sisters  took  herself  and  child  into  their  home. 

This  year  again  on  the  prairies  in  the  camps  of 
the  Crees  as  in  previous  seasons  Father  Lacombe  met 
with  W ihaskokiseyin  (Sweet-Grass),  the  interesting 
pagan  Indian.  Father  Lacombe  describes  him  at 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


131 


this  period  as  being  unusually  short  for  an  Indian 
warrior  and  hunter.  His  bronzed  features  were  fine, 
his  body  agile,  his  manner  pleasant  and  rather  grace- 
ful and  though  not  of  the  stature  of  a great  warrior 
he  carried  himself  as  a man  who  was  every  inch  a chief 
and  leader  of  men. 

Toward  the  close  of  this  year  an  Indian  courier 
from  the  North  brought  Father  Lacombe  a letter 
from  Bishop  Grandin,  appointed  coadjutor  to 
Bishop  Tache  in  1857.  The  Bishop  was  about  to 
come  south  and  establish  a See  at  St.  Albert — leav- 
ing the  Athabasca-Mackenzie  vicariate  to  the  newly- 
consecrated  Bishop  Faraud. 

He  asked  Father  Lacombe  to  meet  him  at  Carlton. 
He  was  naturally  anxious  to  see  the  most  noted  of 
the  workers  in  his  new  charge.  Father  Lacombe, 
equally  desirous  to  meet  one  of  the  apostles  of  the 
Arctic  missions  planned  to  combine  business  with 
pleasure.  He  proposed  to  secure  for  St.  Paul  de  Cris 
an  allocation  as  a mission,  with  a resident  priest  and 
an  annual  grant  from  the  Propagation  funds  for  the 
diocese — to  make  of  it,  in  fact,  another  St.  Albert. 

Leaving  his  flocks  on  the  plains  in  March  he  hired 
“a  good  tough  Indian”  as  guide,  and  with  his  own 
dogs  they  made  Fort  Pitt  in  four  days.  Here  he 
hired  a new  guide,  the  first  pleading  fatigue. 

Some  Indians  at  the  Fort  begged  him  to  spend  a 
day  or  two  with  them  before  they  left  for  the  prairies, 
and  Father  Lacombe  could’ not  refuse. 

The  morning  after  they  left  Pitt  they  woke  to  a 


182 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


head  wind  and  mild  weather.  The  snow  thawing 
burdened  their  snowshoes  and  the  sun,  dazzling  on 
the  white  plains,  hurt  their  eyes. 

On  the  last  day  named  by  the  Bishop  for  the  meet- 
ing at  Carlton,  the  post  was  still  65  miles  away.  In 
turn  each  walked  ahead  of  the  dogs  to  beat  the  trail, 
holding  deerskin  mitts  to  screen  their  aching  eyes. 
At  night  they  made  a fire  to  brew  some  tea,  but  they 
could  not  bear  to  look  on  the  fire,  and  Father  Lacombe 
went  to  sleep  rolled  in  a blanket  holding  his  eyebrows 
away  from  his  inflamed  eyes  in  hope  of  relief. 

The  following  day  the  light  was  cruelly  dazzling 
as  before,  and  the  snow  mushy  by  noon.  Nightfall 
found  the  travellers  approaching  Fort  Carlton.  As 
they  dragged  themselves  up  the  Fort  hill,  they  met 
an  old  Indian  who  told  them  the  Bishop  had  left  that 
morning!  ...  At  the  post  Father  Lacombe 
found  a letter  from  him.  It  was  in  French,  in  the 
fine  vague  scrawl  decipherable  only  by  those  familiar 
with  His  Lordship’s  writing.  The  trader  could  not 
read  it,  and  Father  Lacombe’s  eyes  were  too  sore  to 
puzzle  over  it. 

This  was  surely  the  refined  cruelty  of  Fate. 

What  is  to  be  done  about  it  ? — the  priest  asked  him- 
self? Retrace  his  steps,  and  have  endured  the  hard- 
ships of  that  trip  for  nothing!  The  thought  came 
only  to  be  dismissed.  . . . He  would  of  course 

follow  the  Bishop. 

“How  far  away  do  you  think  their  camp  will  be 
to-night?”  he  asked  the  master  of  the  Fort. 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


183 


The  latter  calculated  the  hour  of  starting  and  the 
condition  of  the  trails — “Only  twenty  miles,  or  less,” 
he  returned,  with  perhaps  hidden  encouragement  for 
the  plucky  priest. 

“Will  you  lend  me  fresh  dogs?” 

Eheu!  the  dogs  were  all  out  with  the  hunters  and 
the  clerks.  Thirty  miles  that  day  was  enough  for 
even  a good  traveller  and  his  dogs — but  the  Bishop 
was  ahead  on  the  trail,  slipping  over  the  white  plains 
to  the  Red  River.  . . . The  tired  dog-train  must 

push  on  further. 

So  it  was  that  at  nine  o’clock  Father  Lacombe  set 
out  again.  The  network  of  his  snowshoes,  that  had 
been  wet  all  day  and  now  was  frozen,  cut  the  tired 
muscles  of  his  feet.  His  poor  dogs  lagged,  though  the 
track  was  lighter  than  during  the  sunlit  day : the  only 
fresh  creature  on  the  trail  was  the  Metis  who  had 
replaced  his  Fort  Pitt  guide.  . . . (“That  Fort 

Pitt  Metis  had  to  rest  at  Carlton.  He  was  the  sec- 
ond man  I knocked  out  on  that  big  trip,”  Father  La- 
combe recalled  forty  years  later  with  a smiling  moue 
of  conscious  pride.) 

He  was  now  travelling  mechanically — the  mind 
keyed  to  reach  the  goal  in  front  and  the  poor  body 
dragged  behind.  He  followed  the  trail  mile  after 
mile  doggedly,  until  they  reached  a point  where  it 
touched  the  river.  They  confidently  looked  for  the 
camp  here.  But  no  dogs  barked  as  they  approached: 
there  was  no  debris  of  fallen  boughs.  . . . The 

trail  wound  back  from  the  river — no  camp  there. 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


134* 

At  this  disappointment,  coming  when  his  eager  soul 
had  been  attuned  to  hear  Bishop  Grandin’s  surprised 
greeting,  Father  Lacombe’s  fatigue  suddenly  over- 
came him.  He  pitied  his  panting  dogs,  flung  prone 
on  the  snow  for  repose. 

“It  is  enough/’  he  said  to  his  man.  “Make  a fire 
here;  we  go  back  to-morrow.” 

It  was  now  after  midnight. 

The  Metis  was  sympathetic,  as  Metis  guides  have 
it  in  their  nature  to  be:  but  he  had  heard  the  young 
Bishop  lamenting  that  he  had  missed  this  other  Man- 
of-Prayer.  So  when  they  “spelled”  he  encouraged 
Father  Lacombe  to  make  still  another  effort. 

“Maybe  they  are  not  half  a mile  ahead,”  he  ven- 
tured. 

On  again  through  the  soft  starlight  across  the  plains 
— a mile  was  passed,  and  nearly  three — when  in  a 
bluff  by  the  river  bank  they  came  upon  the  camp ! 

The  Bishop’s  northern  dogs  barked  most  wolfishly. 
The  wearied  newcomers  answered  with  fainter  yelps, 
as  the  two  men  slipped  quietly  into  camp.  Bishop 
Grandin,  throwing  back  his  buffalo-skin  coverings, 
rose  eagerly  to  meet  them,  crying  with  quick  Gallic 
gladness. 

“Is  this  you,  Father  Lacombe?  Is  it  possible!” 

He  took  his  tired  confrere  into  his  arms,  embracing 
him  as  men  of  the  Latin  races  do,  and  the  wornout 
priest  let  his  tears  come  as  they  would.  They  always 
did  come  easily  to  his  emotional  temperament. 

The  sinking  fire  was  piled  high  again,  the  teakettle 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


135 


swung  hospitably  over  it,  and  when  the  entire  camp 
had  shared  in  this  luxury  of  the  plains  the  men 
dropped  off  to  sleep,  while  the  two  priests  talked  long 
by  the  fire. 

The  Bishop  was  pressing  his  companion  to  come 
on  to  St.  Boniface  at  daybreak,  and  share  with  him 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  Bishop  Tache — that  charm- 
ing prelate,  who  could  be  profound  or  stately  as  a 
Lord  Chancellor  and  as  irresistably  droll  as  a school- 
boy. But  Father  Lacombe  refused;  neither  his  dogs 
nor  himself  had  strength  left  for  the  trip,  he  pleaded. 


XIII 


Next  morning  the  Bishop  took  matters  into  his 
own  hands,  exercising  the  privilege  of  bishops  and 
friends.  He  sent  the  Metis  back  to  Fort  Pitt  with 
the  dogs  and  equipment,  forwarding  word  also  to  St. 
Paul  de  Cris  that  Father  Lacombe  had  gone  to  St. 
Boniface.  . . . Though  at  St.  Paul  Father  La- 

combe, free-lance  of  the  missions,  was  expected  only 
when  he  arrived! 

Starting  for  St.  Boniface,  Father  Lacombe  was  in- 
vited to  seat  himself  in  the  Bishop’s  cariole ; the  latter 
would  travel  on  snowshoes.  Father  Lacombe  pro- 
tested against  enjoying  the  comforts  of  the  cariole, 
but  he  was  commanded  in  obedience  to  his  superior 
to  stay  there,  and  he  did. 

The  pleasant  motion  of  the  cariole,  as  the  dogs  drew 
it  swiftly  over  the  trail,  combined  with  his  over- 
wrought muscles  to  produce  a sleep  so  profound  that 
all  day  he  was  unconscious  of  his  voyage  and  com- 
panions. He  slept  through  the  noon-spell,  when  the 
men  silently  prepared  a meal,  and  when  he  awoke 
at  the  night’s  camping-place  to  see  Bishop  Grandin 
coming  up  to  the  fire  with  some  faggots  on  his  shoul- 
der, he  saluted  him: 

“Heh!  Haven’t  we  started  yet?” 

136 


'18  67 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1ST 


Always  quick  to  recuperate,  he  was  as  fresh  as  a 
chickadee  next  morning,  and  insisted  upon  yielding 
the  cariole  to  its  owner. 

From  St.  Boniface  the  Bishop  went  on  to  France 
to  secure  fresh  funds  and  workers  for  his  missions. 
In  June  Father  Lacombe  returned  from  the  Red 
River  with  Father  Leduc  and  a party  of  five  Grey 
Nuns  for  the  Mackenzie  district — “ these  pearls  of 
the  world,  who  came  as  a blessing  to  the  poor  women 
and  children  of  our  missions,”  Father  Lacombe 
writes. 

Father  Leduc,  the  new  travelling-companion  of  our 
missionary,  wras  a shrewd  humorous  recruit  to  the 
mission-field  from  Brittany,  and  on  this  trip  a life- 
long friendship  between  the  two  men  took  root. 

On  August  13  there  appeared  at  St.  Paul  de  Cris 
the  first  brigade  of  carts  brought  over  the  prairies 
from  St.  Boniface  by  the  Company.  There  were 
eighty-two  carts — a showing  which  quite  eclipsed 
Father  Lacombe’s  modest  pioneer  brigade  of  1862, 
and  two  days  were  occupied  by  their  passing.  The 
big  company  was  five  years  behind  the  missionaries 
in  adopting  this  method  of  transportation,  but  like 
all  strong  and  conservative  forces  when  it  made  the 
change  it  did  so  with  eclat. 

Eighty -two  carts!  To  the  wide-eyed  natives  at  St. 
Paul  the  sight  was  as  awe-inspiring  as  the  steam-horse 
and  iron  road  were  to  be  years  later.  And  as  though 
this  were  not  in  itself  sufficiently  wonderful — ten 
days  later  there  came  creaking  and  groaning  up  the 


138 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867, 


trail  a second  brigade  of  thirty-two  carts  belonging 
to  the  Company! 

Between  the  fading  lines  of  this  old  entry  in  the 
Journal  can  be  read  much  wonderment  and  much 
leisure  on  the  part  of  sundry  dusky  braves,  who  joyed 
in  counting  the  carts  as  they  passed  rumbling  down 
the  trail. 

One  evening  in  October  when  Father  Lacombe  was 
in  a small  camp  of  Crees  he  had  a new  experience. 
The  night  prayer  was  over,  but  about  twenty  old  men 
lingered  near  the  priest’s  tent  smoking  and  talking 
with  him. 

The  long  twilight  lying  in  a gold  fringe  of  light 
over  the  prairies  was  a beautiful  hour;  to  Father  La- 
combe sitting  among  his  old  warriors,  smoking  his 
pipe  with  long  draughts,  and  imbibing  the  quaint 
wisdom  of  the  primeval  races,  it  was  particularly 
beautiful. 

Suddenly  their  pleasurable  calm  was  broken  into 
by  a rude  war-chant! 

“Heh!  Heh!  Hi-yi-ho-ho-huh!” 

A band  of  young  warriors  returning  from  a hunt 
came  riding  out  upon  the  ridge  of  land  to  the  west. 
They  advanced  with  the  haze  of  orange  light  behind 
them,  their  ponies  darkly  silhouetted  against  the  sky, 
their  voices  rising  and  falling  in  wild  triumph. 

They  dashed  into  the  encampment  on  panting 
ponies.  The  old  men  looked  up  with  interested  en- 
quiry; the  women  and  children  roused  from  their 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


189 


tents  came  eagerly  out  to  greet  them,  while  the  re- 
turned warriors  proudly  exhibited  a prisoner,  a young 
woman  of  one  of  the  southern  tribes. 

When  she  caught  sight  of  the  priest  sitting  among 
the  old  men,  she  slipped  from  her  horse  and  threw 
herself  at  Father  Lacombe’s  feet,  crying  softly  to 
herself.  She  was  clad  in  white  deerskin  tunic,  and 
her  long  dark  hair  was  hanging  loose  about  her.  As 
she  lay  there  the  young  men  described  with  enthusi- 
asm a chance  encounter  with  a small  band  of  Sarcee 
hunters,  in  which  this  woman’s  husband  and  a couple 
of  others  were  killed. 

Father  Lacombe  tells  the  story. 

“I  heard  their  talk.  When  they  finish,— 4 Bon/ 
I say.  ‘Who  owns  this  woman V 

“ T do,’  said  one  young  warrior,  a strong  proud- 
looking  man. 

44  ‘Well,  I want  you  to  sell  her  to  me.’ 

“They  all  laughed.  T thought,’  that  young  man 
said,  ‘you  Men-of-Prayer  did  not  want  women.’ 

“I  was  cross  then,  for  if  you  let  an  Indian  be  rude 
or  too  familiar  with  you,  he  keeps  on  and  you  lose 
all  control  of  him. 

“ ‘Ha,  you  are  a brave  man!’  I said.  "You  make 
a weak  woman  a prisoner:  now  you  come  and  say  a 
thing  so  stupide  to  me.  You  know  well  why  I want 
to  buy  this  woman.’ 

“ ‘I  know,’  the  man  said  then  ashamed  at  my  voice. 
‘But  I do  not  want  to  sell  her.  I want  her.’ 


140 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


“He  looked  at  her,  when  he  said  that:  she  was  a 
fine  young  woman,  you  know.  ‘I  want  a wife/  he 
said,  ‘and  I have  nothing  to  buy  one.’ 

“ ‘Well,  if  you  will  sell  this  one  now,  I will  give 
you  a horse ; and  I will  give  you  goods  from  the  Fort 
— a new  coat — and  shirt — and  leggings  for  yourself, 
and  some  tea  and  tobacco.’ 

“I  speak  this  all  slowly,  and  I add  to  it  because 
he  did  not  look  willing  at  first ; but  when  I had  finish 
he  said  quickly: 

“‘Ha!  you  may  take  her.  You  offer  much  for 
her.’ 

“He  was  so  quick  at  the  last  I think  maybe  he  was 
afraid  I would  change  my  mind  about  paying  so 
much. 

“Then  I say  to  the  young  woman:  ‘You  are  my 
property  now,  you  see’ — and  I put  my  hand  on  her 
head  and  speak  severely:  ‘You  must  do  what  I tell 
you  and  go  only  where  I tell  you.’  I was  afraid  she 
might  take  up  with  another  young  Cree  warrior  by- 
and-bye,  and  the  two  run  away  from  the  camp. 

“And  I had  my  mind  made  up  already  to  take  that 
girl  back  to  her  people:  Oh,  I was  planning  a grand 
coup . 

“She  told  me  she  was  a Sarcee  girl  and  that  she 
knew  my  face  when  she  rode  in  to  the  camp.  She 
had  seen  me  once  when  I was  down  with  the  Blackfeet 
and  her  own  people,  who  are  of  allied  nations.  She 
prayed  me  now  to  protect  her. 

“I  gave  her  in  charge  of  a good  Christian  family 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


T41 

until  we  brought  her  up  to  the  Sisters  at  St.  Al- 
bert.” 

The  Sarcee  girl  had  now  reached  a haven  in  the 
little  log  convent,  where  during  the  winter  she  learned 
a little  English  together  with  the  white  women’s  ways. 
Next  spring  we  shall  see  her  figuring  again  rather 
dramatically  in  Father  Lacombe’s  history. 

After  leaving  the  girl  at  St.  Albert  Father  La- 
combe  returned  to  St.  Paul  and  evidently  had  a hard 
time  for  several  weeks,  because  the  journal — like  old 
Hudson’s  Bay  journals  in  northern  posts — records 
little  else  but  cold,  sickness  and  trouble.  There  were 
few  fish  to  be  had;  the  wolves  ate  his  horses;  Indians 
about  the  mission  fell  ill,  and  the  little  house  was 
turned  into  a hospital  with  as  many  as  ten  patients 
at  once. 

In  November  Alexis  the  famous  was  sent  to  St. 
Albert  for  horses.  The  Journal  relates  with  obvious 
pathos  that  after  being  a very  long  time  away  from 
the  mission,  because  of  severe  weather,  Alexis  re- 
turned with  only  one  horse!  And  of  what  use  was 
one  horse  for  the  new  surprising  enterprise  which 
Father  Lacombe  planned? 

During  the  past  summer  he  had  designed  a house- 
tent  and  his  heart  was  set  upon  celebrating  Midnight 
Mass  for  his  Indians  in  this  ambulant  chapel;  but  it 
was  too  heavy  for  the  dogs  to  haul  to  the  prairies. 
Father  Lacombe  finally  succeeded  in  buying  another 
horse  from  an  Indian,  and  he  and  Alexis  set  out 
proudly  for  the  plains.  The  Journal’s  meagre  entry 


142 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


for  the  rest  of  December  was  a note  of  severe  cold 
and  snowstorms. 

But  the  simply- worded  and  more  lengthy  entry  for 
January,  1868,  is  pitiful  in  what  it  conveys  between 
the  lines.  Like  all  the  other  items  of  this  smoke- 
stained  Journal  it  is  in  French  and  reads: 

“January,  1868. 

“This  voyage  and  mission  of  Pere  Lacombe  have 
been  very  trying,  not  because  of  so  much  work  among 
the  Indians  but  chiefly  for  the  great  Fast  which  he 
and  his  companions  endured  during  twenty  1 days : 
they  having  nothing  but  some  mouthfuls  of  dirty  and 
disgusting  nourishment  to  eat,  and  that  only  at  night 
after  having  tramped  all  day  in  snow,  sometimes 
above  the  knees. 

“Notwithstanding  these  adversities  the  Father  was 
able  to  visit  and  see  all  the  Christians  of  this  mission. 
They  were  found  scattered  at  different  points  of  the 
prairie  in  the  hope  of  falling  in  with  buffalo — and 
these  were  not  numerous  this  year.  ...  It  was 
opposite  the  Nose  Hill  that  the  Father  made  this  mis- 
sion. . . . 

“The  house-tent  went  well  enough — the  Father 
being  able  to  accommodate  fifty  to  sixty  people  in  it 
for  the  services.” 

At  the  outset  Father  Lacombe’s  mind  was  greatly 
occupied  by  his  house-tent,  the  newest  idea  evolved 

1 These  twenty  days  included  fourteen  days  on  the  trip  out  to  find  the 
first  encampment  and  six  days  later  while  again  looking  for  other  camps 
of  the  Crees. 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


143 


from  his  fertile  brain  and  one  with  which  he  hoped 
to  astonish  and  delight  his  nomads. 

For  years  the  French  priests  in  the  west  had 
plodded  along  as  best  they  could  with  nothing  better 
than  a skin  tepee.  But  if  there  was  a brisk  wind  it 
was  often  impossible  to  celebrate  Mass  in  a tepee,  be- 
cause the  smoke  circled  about  the  lodge  half-way  up 
and  filled  the  throat  of  a man  standing. 

Once  Father  Lacombe  had  to  celebrate  Mass  on 
his  knees  to  avoid  the  smoke.  Another  day  at  the 
elevation  his  crucifix  hanging  to  the  tent  above  his 
head  plunged  into  the  chalice. 

To  avoid  any  such  accidents  he  had  designed  his 
house-tent  of  leather.  He  bought  fifty  tanned  buf- 
falo skins  from  Indians  at  St..  Paul.  With  twenty 
poles  as  big  as  his  wrist  in  circumference  and  with 
iron  pegs  got  from  the  Company’s  blacksmith  at  Fort 
Edmonton  he  contrived  to  pin  the  frame  of  his  house 
together  and  then  fasten  the  peaked  roof  upon  it. 
The  dimensions  of  the  house-tent  were  25  feet  by  15. 

The  buffalo  skins  were  shaped  to  make  a deep  cov- 
ering secured  about  the  base  with  banks  of  snow. 
This  last  convenience  served  two  purposes — it  held 
down  the  walls  and  kept  out  the  thieving  Indian  dogs, 
which  were — he  gravely  stated  once — “just  bands  of 
devils.”  He  had  with  him  besides  a small  camp- 
stove  as  heater. 

With  Alexis  and  all  this  paraphernalia  he  started 
out  on  December  4,  1867,  from  St.  Paul,  his  two 


144 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


horses  drawing  the  equipment  and  an  aged,  destitute 
Blackfoot  woman  who  had  been  thrown  on  their  mercy 
at  the  mission.  Under  her  tuition  Father  Lacombe 
hoped  that  winter  on  the  prairie  to  increase  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  Blackfoot  tongue. 

He  had  a fresh  reason  for  this  study:  he  was  plan- 
ning for  the  next  summer  a coup  dfEtat  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  a vigorous  campaign  of  Christianity  among 
all  the  warlike,  stubborn  southern  tribes. 

Provisions  formed  but  a small  part  of  the  equip- 
ment on  leaving  St.  Paul,  for  the  supplies  there  had 
been  about  consumed  by  the  sick  Indians  maintained 
through  the  autumn.  They  had  some  frozen  fish  and 
pemmican — enough  in  all  to  last  them  a couple  of 
days  on  their  journey  to  a camp  of  Crees  near  the 
Battle  River. 

There  was  no  trail  broken;  the  snow  was  deep  and 
progress  was  slow.  The  second  night,  as  they  were 
deciding  to  camp,  they  saw  a thin  smoke  rising  from 
a clump  of  trees  nearby.  They  went  to  it,  and  found 
a group  of  eighteen  miserable  Indians — men,  women 
and  children — “only  skin  and  bones,  almost  starved. 
For  many  days  not  a mouthful  of  food — poor  people ! 
Mon  Dieu , but  they  were  miserahles — so  thin,  and 
the  children  too  weak  to  play  or  cry!” 

They  answered  listlessly  to  F ather  Lacombe’s  ques- 
tions but  their  very  looks  seemed  to  ask  him  what  he 
would  do  for  them.  They  had  come  down  from  the 
wooded  country,  where  they  had  had  no  luck  all 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


145 


autumn.  Neither  fur  nor  food  had  been  found  in 
any  quantity,  and  they  were  looking  for  their  kinsmen 
on  the  plains.  They  had  eaten  their  horses  and  dogs. 
They  were  now  at  the  end  of  human  endurance. 


XIV 


There  was  only  one  thing  for  Father  Lacombe  to 
do.  First  he  ordered  Alexis  to  pitch  camp  beside 
them. 

“Now,  Alexis,  and  you,  Suzanne,  have  you  the 
courage  to  risk  having  nothing  to  eat  for  three  days!” 
he  asked  his  companions.  “For  my  part,  I am  will- 
ing.” 

“Yes,”  each  agreed  simply;  and  “I  have  often 
starved  before,”  the  squaw  added.  So,  too,  had 
Alexis,  but  he  was  more  sparing  of  words. 

Then  Alexis  gave  out  the  tea  and  pemmican,  and 
five  or  six  fish — all  they  had,  altogether  insufficient 
and  rapidly  devoured.  As  for  Father  Lacombe  and 
his  party  they  might  be  the  proud  guardians  of  the 
finest  tent  in  the  northwest  but  they  went  to  bed 
that  night  without  supper,  and  with  little  prospect 
of  breakfast. 

Next  morning  the  journey  was  resumed,  the  priest 
and  his  party  leading  the  way  to  break  the  road  for 
the  famished  company  straggling  behind. 

“Try  and  follow  us,”  he  told  them.  “But  I have 
no  more  food,  and  I do  not  want  to  kill  my  horses  yet. 
I need  them  too  badly  this  winter.” 

The  poor  Crees  taking  heart  from  his  sympathy 
dragged  themselves  along  the  beaten  trail.  All  that 

146 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


147 


day  the  travellers  found  only  one  rabbit  and  a 
partridge.  A mouthful  for  twenty  persons!  These 
morsels  were  cooked  and  given  to  the  children. 

That  night  they  camped  in  a big  snowstorm.  The 
next  day  and  still  the  next  there  was  nothing  but 
snow  and  cold,  and  the  sad  little  section  of  humanity 
dragged  its  way  slowly  across  the  wide  plains.  Their 
stomachs  shrank  with  the  gnawing  hunger-ache. 
Their  tired  hearts  panted  sickly  forward  to  the  camp- 
fires of  their  tribe. 

The  clamour  of  dogs  and  children,  the  smoky  lit- 
tered tepees,  the  rank  steaming  kettles  had  some- 
times been  repulsive  to  him,  but  Father  Lacombe  in 
his  heart  now  felt  he  would  never  despise  an  Indian 
tepee  again,  even  at  its  worst  of  dogs  and  vermin 
and  dirt. 

On  the  fifth  day  out  they  approached  the  rendez- 
vous indicated  by  the  courier  at  St.  Paul.  . . . 

They  came  up  to  it  before  dusk — but  to  find  the  bit- 
terest disappointment  awaiting  them. 

The  Crees  had  pitched  off  to  another  point.  The 
skeleton  frames  of  their  tepees  were  standing — that 
was  all;  and  the  wanderers  felt  even  Hope  desert 
them  as  they  looked  on  these  chilly  witnesses  of  the 
vanished  cheer. 

A heavy  snowfall  had  covered  up  the  trail  their 
tribe  had  taken.  . . . 

The  disappointment  was  agony,  and  the  torment 
of  their  hunger  returned  tenfold.  The  starving  com- 
pany were  free  on  the  trackless  prairie — yet  their  very 


148 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


freedom  mocked  them  as  the  blindest  impasse  might 
have  done.  And  above  and  beyond  every  other  feel- 
ing was  their  hunger.  They  had  not  eaten  at  all  that 
day. 

Father  Lacombe  sent  Alexis  off  with  his  gun  to 
search  for  food:  the  others  were  past  that  effort.  For 
his  part  he  fastened  snowshoes  on  and  went  to  look 
out  from  a hill  in  hope  of  some  guidance.  There 
was  nothing  for  him;  and  he,  too,  like  the  others  was 
failing  with  weakness.  . . . His  sight  was  con- 

fused; his  neck  seemed  to  totter  under  the  weight  of 
his  head.  He  was  not  racked  any  longer  with  hun- 
ger, but  the  faintness  of  death  was  on  him.  He  ral- 
lied, and  caught  his  mind  wandering  as  if  he  were  in 
delirium. 

Yesterday  they  had  eaten  and  drank — a bouillon 
made  of  the  skins  of  old  sacks,  cords  of  sinews  and 
old  pieces  of  moccasins! 

At  nightfall  they  had  scraped  off  the  snow  and 
were  camped  for  the  night — when  the  priest  heard 
the  creaking  of  Alexis’  snowshoes,  and  by  the  sound 
of  his  steps  felt  sure  he  carried  a burden.  They  all 
pricked  up  their  ears  at  the  sound,  and  when  Alexis 
came  into  camp  went  eagerly  out  to  meet  him. 

He  had  a burden — some  pieces  of  meat  from  a buf- 
falo bull  he  had  killed,  as  he  found  it  diseased  and 
dying,  abandoned  by  the  herd. 

The  emaciated  Indians  threw  pieces  of  the  meat 
into  boiling  water  and  gladly  ate  their  disgusting 
portion  and  drank  the  bouillon,  but  the  sight  and 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


149 


smell  of  it  only  filled  Father  Lacombe  with  nausea. 
He  tried  the  repulsive  stuff ; his  offended  stomach  re- 
fused to  retain  it. 

That  night  the  great  lights  of  the  north  rose  in 
such  splendour  that  even  Father  Lacombe  in  his  ex- 
haustion could  not  forbear  to  marvel  at  them.  To 
the  Indians  bred  in  the  belief  that  these  were  the 
spirits  of  their  ancestors,  the  ghostly  white  lights 
shooting  across  the  sky  were  as  spirits  beckoning  in- 
sistently from  their  skyey  realms  to  the  sickened, 
hopeless  group  of  humanity  huddled  about  the  green- 
wood fire  on  the  trail  that  led  Nowhere. 

For  fourteen  days  in  all  this  blind  search  and  pain- 
ful walking,  with  the  griping  fast  continued.  In  all 
that  time  the  disgusting  meat  that  Alexis  brought 
and  an  occasional  rabbit  or  prairie-chicken  was  all 
that  stood  between  the  wayfarers  and  utter  starva- 
tion. 

“But,  Oh,  those  horses  getting  weak — and  thos^ 
people  dragging  themselves  behind!”  . . . 

In  that  heart-wrung  exclamation  of  the  old  mis- 
sionary decades  later  can  be  seen  the  whole  painful 
picture  that  made  so  cruel  a blot  on  the  white  prairies. 
Had  the  Master  of  Life  no  thought  then  for  his  chil- 
dren?— The  birds  of  the  air  were  sybarites  compared 
to  these. 

“My  dear  friends  and  you  who  seat  yourselves  at 
tables  covered  with  appetizing  food  whenever  you 
need  it,  let  me  tell  you,”  Father  Lacombe  wrote  of 
this  to  the  Forets,  “how  painful  and  torturing  it  is  to 


150 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1867 


know  hunger  in  circumstances  like  these!  Up  to  that 
time  in  my  sermons  and  instructions  to  the  Indians — 
some  of  them  lazy — I had  said  many  times,  I had 
proclaimed,  that  those  who  did  not  want  to  work — 
should  not  eat. 

“But  now,  after  such  an  experience,  I have  changed 
my  ideas,  and  I have  taken  the  resolution  to  share 
my  last  mouthful  with  anyone  who  is  hungry.  After 
experiencing  such  hardship  from  hunger  how  clearly 
one  understands  these  words  of  the  Father  of  the 
Poor:  ‘I  was  hungry,  and  you  gave  me  not  to 

eat.?  ”... 

The  starving  band  had  reached  the  last  point  of 
endurance,  though  all  were  still  living.  The  horses 
were  growing  weak  from  the  continual  wandering 
and  difficulty  to  paw  down  to  the  grass  under  the  deep 
snow. 

As  a last  resource  Father  Lacombe  one  night  told 
the  camp  he  was  resolved  to  kill  his  horses  one  by  one. 
He  had  made  the  resolution  before,  but  had  neither 
expressed  it  nor  carried  it  out.  The  following  morn- 
ing— this  was  Sunday,  as  he  recalls  it — fresh  hope 
came  to  him  with  returning  light.  Fie  told  Alexis 
they  would  put  off  killing  the  horse  until  night. 
. . . They  could  endure  one  day  longer. 

But  the  horse  was  never  killed. 

Two  hours  after  midnight,  the  innocent  prodigals 
came  upon  the  hearth  fires  of  their  people.  There 
was  joy  on  both  sides — better  still,  plenty  to  eat  in 
the  camp.  This  was  something  of  which  the  new- 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


151 


comers  would  hastily  assure  themselves,  but  their  peo- 
ple wise  from  similar  experience  gave  them  at  first 
only  bouillon  with  tiny  pieces  of  buffalo-meat  chopped 
in  it. 

Food,  fire  and  the  sense  of  Home  was  theirs:  that 
was  Heaven  after  the  cold  and  pitiless  uncertainty 
of  the  plains. 

In  three  or  four  days  they  had  begun  to  eat  solid 
food  and  live  like  their  brethren — which  for  that  sea- 
son and  in  that  particular  camp  meant  living  very 
well,  with  dried  meat  in  abundance,  fresh  pieces  of 
rib-meat  and  buffalo  hump.  What  more  could  the 
heart  of  the  plainsman  desire? 

It  was  now  Christmas  Eve — Ka-ni pa-ay am-itiak 
(The-time-we-pray-at-night).  Although  still  weak 
F ather  Lacombe  had  to  bestir  himself.  He  had  spent 
the  first  days  in  the  lodge  of  Chief  Sweet-Grass,  but 
now  he  showed  the  materials  for  his  house-tent  to 
the  Indians  and  asked  them  to  set  it  up.  They  com- 
plied with  delight ; it  was  an  honour  to  have  anything 
to  do  in  connection  with  this  novelty. 

The  snow  was  cleared  away  by  the  squaws,  while 
the  men  set  up  the  frame  and  covering.  The  camp- 
stove  was  put  in  place,  a pile  of  wood  cut  for  it  and 
the  snowy  ground  of  the  tent  covered  with  boughs  and 
buffalo-skin.  Such  luxury  and  comfort  had  never 
been  known  on  the  plains  before. 

When  Father  Lacombe  was  installed  the  old  men 
gathered  about  his  doorway.  Awed  by  the  elegance 
of  his  domicile  they  were  at  first  shy  about  entering. 


152 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


But  they  soon  found  their  way  in  with  their  pipes 
and  philosophy  and  made  themselves  entirely  at  home 
. . . until  Father  Lacombe  had  to  clear  the  room 

to  hear  the  confessions  of  those  who  were  already 
Christian. 

For  the  first  time  on  the  prairie  Father  Lacombe 
was  to  exercise  his  priest’s  privilege  of  celebrating 
three  Masses  on  this  one  day  of  the  year.  From  his 
doorway,  when  the  bell  had  called  the  camp  to  atten- 
tion, he  announced  that  all  the  chiefs  and  hunters  were 
to  attend  the  first  Mass,  the  women  the  second,  while 
the  Mass  after  daylight  was  to  be  for  the  children. 

Midnight  found  him  at  an  altar  made  of  poles  sur- 
mounted by  his  chapel-box  in  which  were  the  vest- 
ments, the  altar-stone,  the  linen  and  vessels  necessary 
on  the  altar.  Every  foot  of  kneeling-space  was  oc- 
cupied by  the  men. 

“As  I robed  myself  for  that  Mass,”  he  has  written, 
“this  is  what  passed  in  my  heart.  . . . ‘The  Holy 

Gospel  tells  us  that  the  shepherds  of  the  valley  of 
Bethlehem  came  to  the  stable  to  adore  the  divine 
Child.  And  here  to-night  in  this  wild  country  in 
North  America  another  kind  of  shepherds — the  shep- 
herds of  the  great  flocks  of  buffalo — are  kneeling 
down  to  adore  the  same  Child  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God, 
that  lay  on  the  straw  in  Bethlehem  in  the  far  east.’ 

“And  when  these  old  shepherds  began  to  sing  the 
canticles  of  the  Church  in  their  own  tongue — ‘Emigwa 
tibishayih 9 — cCaf  hergers  assemblons-nous’ — for  some 
time  I could  not  begin  my  Mass  because  the  tears 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


153 


came  and  I wept.  Ah,  that  scene  was  a poeme . 
. . . eSasay  Manito,  awasis / . . . Those 

warriors  and  hunters  singing  the  hymns  that  are  of 
the  Church  the  whole  world  over,  the  same  old  mel- 
odies we  sang  at  St.  Sulpice  for  the  Noel ! Ah-h!” 
He  never  spoke  of  this  night  without  emotion. 

“I  have  said  Mass  in  Saint  Peter’s  at  Rome,  in 
fine  basilicas  in  France  and  in  many  places — but  I 
say  to  you,  this  was  the  most  solemn  Mass — the  most 
grand  of  all.’* 

When  the  Mass  was  ended,  the  young  priest,  so 
happy  that  he  was  conscious  of  no  fatigue,  dismissed 
the  warriors  with  a glad — 

“Bon  Noel ! My  dear  shepherds,  go  and  smoke 
your  Christmas  calumet  and  take  your  rest.” 

Then  followed  the  Mass  of  the  Dawn.  Now  it  was 
the  women  of  the  camp  who  came  uniting  their  voices 
in  sacred  song.  The  Sacrifice  was  concluded  and  the 
women  dismissed. 

Father  Lacombe,  now  thoroughly  weak,  felt  his 
head  reel  with  faintness  as  it  did  during  that  awful 
fortnight  on  the  prairies,  and  in  blind  haste  he  packed 
away  the  altar  fittings  and  threw  himself  down  on 
the  buffalo-skins  to  rest.  The  warm  skins  enveloped 
him;  the  earth  welcomed  him  and  breathed  repose 
through  him.  Sleep  closed  his  eyes. 

No  angels  watched  visibly  over  the  sleeping  camp, 
but  their  message  had  penetrated  to  the  hearts  of  the 
Cree  warriors.  And  the  promised  Feace-to-men-of- 
Good-will  had  fallen  in  divine  fullness  upon  Father 


154 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


Lacombe  lying  exhausted  by  the  fire  on  his  bed  of 
boughs  and  skins. 

On  Sunday  night  when  the  last  hymn  was  sung 
in  the  chapel-tent  Father  Lacombe  would  fain  say 
good-night  to  his  warriors:  he  did  not  want  to  ex- 
change stories  over  the  pipes  that  night,  for  the  air 
of  his  tent  was  hot  and  bad,  and  he  still  felt  weak. 
But  while  the  men  lingered  the  doorway  of  the  tent 
was  suddenly  thrown  open  and  a Metis  courier  from 
St.  Albert  stamped  in  with  greetings  from  that  mis- 
sion, and  letters  that  had  come  by  the  Company’s 
packet  from  the  Red  River.  ' 

As  the  Indians  watched  Father  Lacombe  read  and 
re-read  one  paper  they  saw  great  joy  and  anxiety  al- 
ternately master  his  mobile  face,  and  the  ready  tears 
welled  up.  He  seemed  oblivious  of  all  but  one  letter. 

This  was  from  Bishop  Grandin  in  Rome  telling 
him  of  the  condition  of  their  venerable  Pontiff  at- 
tacked now  on  every  side  by  enemies.  Enclosed  with 
this  was  a copy  of  the  Papal  decree  convoking  the 
twentieth  Ecumenical  Council.  In  the  midst  of  his 
cares  and  humiliations  Pius  IX  had  grandly  decided 
to  hold  another  of  the  great  Ecumenical  Councils  of 
the  Church,  the  first  of  the  imposing  assemblages 
since  the  Council  of  Trent. 

For  these  reasons  smiles  and  tears  were  very  close 
together  on  the  priest’s  face.  Chief  Sweet-Grass, 
who  was  very  fond  of  the  Man-of-the-Beautiful- 
Mind,  came  quietly  near  him,  and  asked  what  news 
he  had  that  moved  him  so  strongly.  F ather  Lacombe 


1867 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


165 


explained  the  letters  reading  from  the  decree  some 
words  of  the  grand  chief  of  the  Men-of-Prayer. 

Immediately  the  warriors  pressed  forward  to  see 
it.  Father  Lacombe  pointed  out  the  pontiff’s  name 
and  the  heraldic  device  surmounting  the  sheet.  One 
old  man  bent  and  kissed  the  page. 

“What  is  the  name  of  the  chief  of  the  Men-of- 
Prayer?”  Sweet-Grass  asked  wonderingly. 

“Pius  IX  is  his  name.  Pius  IX!” 

Very  gravely  Sweet-Grass  pursued  his  enquiries. 

“May  I speak  his  name — even  though  I am  not  a 
praying-Indian  ?” 

“To  be  sure  you  may,”  Father  Lacombe  agreed, 
and  Sweet- Grass  had  him  repeat  it  for  him  until  he 
felt  he  could  say  it  correctly. 

Then  the  chief  stood  up  among  his  braves,  holding 
the  Pope’s  decree  in  his  own  hands ; and  he  called  out 
strongly,  solemnly,  as  if  he  made  an  invocation: 

“Pius  IX!  Pius  IX!  . . . Listen,  all  my 

people  present — Pius  IX!  May  that  name  bring  us 
good  fortune!” 

Then  sweeping  an  arm  out  over  his  seated  braves: 

“Rise!”  he  called  to  them,  “and  say  ‘Pius  IX!’  ” 

And  they  all  rose  and  repeated  after  him — “Pius 
IX!” 

This  scene  might  have  furnished  another  paragraph 
to  Macaulay’s  admiring  study  of  the  Church  of 
Rome.  For  while  its  Pontiff,  the  “Little  Father  of 
the  Poor,”  was  being  driven  to  his  last  redoubt  in 
the  Vatican — only  saved  from  the  Garibaldian  forces 


156 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1867 


two  months  earlier  by  an  army  of  men  from  every 
civilized  nation — here  in  this  western  wilderness  new 
races  were  enlisting  under  his  banner,  and  a miser- 
ably clad  but  valiant  soldier  of  Christ  was  moved  to 
tears  at  the  unlooked-for  tribute  to  his  chief. 

In  the  following  year  Father  Lacombe  sent  the 
details  of  the  little  incident  to  his  early  patron,  Bishop 
Bourget,  who  was  then  in  Rome.  The  aged  Pontiff, 
profoundly  moved  by  the  happening,  asked  the  Bishop 
to  convey  his  blessing  to  Father  Lacombe,  his  good 
chief  and  Indians. 


XV 


The  year  1868  opened  upon  Father  Lacombe  on 
the  plains  in  the  camp  of  the  head  chief  Sweet- 
Grass.  In  a few  weeks  he  returned  to  St.  Paul  de 
Cris,  and  later  went  up  to  Rocky  Mountain  House 
to  minister  to  Indians  there. 

The  time  had  now  arrived  to  achieve  his  coup 
d’etat ; consequently  he  called  at  St.  Albert  for  the 
Sarcee  captive.  The  Sisters  who  had  become  very 
strongly  attached  to  Marguerite,  as  she  had  been  chris- 
tened, pleaded  with  Father  Lacombe  to  leave  her 
with  them  so  that  she  might  never  know  the  hardships 
of  camp  life  again. 

“We  love  her,”  they  said,  “and  she  seems  to  be 
happy  with  us.” 

“Yes,”  said  Father  Lacombe,  “that  is  all  fine! 
But  how  long  will  it  last?  She  will  get  tired  of  life 
here.  Already  when  I spoke  to  her  in  Blackfoot  she 
told  me  she  was  lonely  for  her  people.  . . . And, 

anyway,  I must  take  her  home.  She  is  gold — gold 
to  me! 

“Her  people  of  the  Blackfoot  nation  are  fierce  and 
proud.  They  are  my  friends,  though  they  do  not 
love  my  teaching  as  the  Crees  do.  . . . But  when 
I bring  Marguerite  back  to  them.  . . * Ah,  that 
is  my  day!” 


157 


158 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1868 


Father  Lacombe  had  spoken  with  discernment. 
The  Blackfeet  did  love  him  for  his  sympathy;  they 
admired  his  courage  and  daring;  more  than  once  the 
chiefs  had  greeted  the  praying-man  by  running  their 
hands  over  his  forehead,  chest  and  arms  to  absorb 
from  him  into  their  own  bodies  some  virtue  of  the 
medicine  which  made  him  great.  But  they  wanted 
nothing  to  do  with  the  religion  which  had  fired  him 
to  become  the  man  he  was. 

From  the  Blackfeet  trading  at  the  Mountain  House 
that  spring  Father  Lacombe  had  learned  something 
of  the  position  of  their  nation’s  camp.  With  this,  to- 
gether with  Marguerite’s  knowledge  of  her  people’s 
hunting-ground  and  their  probable  choice  of  a place 
of  encampment,  he  had  little  difficulty  in  finding 
them. 

His  party  included  Alexis,  the  aged  Blackfoot  Su- 
zanne and  Marguerite.  One  day  as  they  paused  on 
a piece  of  rolling  upland  to  rest  their  horses  the  girl’s 
quick  eyes  caught  sight  of  a big  camp  on  the  slope 
of  a neighbouring  coulee — blots  of  gray  and  brown 
against  the  first  delicate  green  of  the  prairies. 

Maybe  this  was  the  camp  of  her  people,  she  said. 
. . . Eh,  bien , said  Father  Lacombe,  it  was  well 

to  be  prepared.  Immediately  the  party  pitched 
camp.  Alexis  was  told  to  raise  the  Red  Cross  flag 
on  a tent-pole.  The  Sarcee  girl  was  ordered  into  the 
women’s  tent — under  no  pretext  to  leave  until  she  was 
called — and  then  the  Generalissimo  folded  his  hands 
and  waited. 


1868 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


159 


But  not  for  long:  the  Indians  saw  his  signal  flap- 
ping in  the  long  prairie  winds,  and  promptly  recog- 
nized it.  The  flag  in  itself  was  famed  among  them,  the 
man  who  carried  it,  revered  . . . for  had  he  not 

nursed  them  through  the  rongeole  and  the  typhoid 
and  stopped  the  battle  with  the  Crees?  Lassoing 
their  horses  lightly  they  sprang  upon  them  and  rode 
over  in  a barbaric,  half -naked  cavalcade  to  the  priest’s 
tent.  Men  and  women  rode  galloping  through  the 
valley,  up  the  hill,  welcoming  him  with  glad  cries  as 
they  drew  near. 

“They  did  not  want  my  religion,”  says  Father  La- 
combe  simply,  “but  they  liked  me.  They  were  my 
friends.” 

In  the  crowd  he  noticed  some  whose  faces  were 
streaked  with  black  paint  and  their  hair  cut,  in  token 
of  mourning.  This  looked  promising.  He  asked 
them  whom  they  mourned? 

“Six  moons  ago,”  they  said,  “your  friends,  the 
Crees,  attacked  a camp  of  our  young  men,  killed 
some  of  them  and  carried  off  one  of  our  young 
women.” 

“And  did  you  go  to  find  her?” 

“Her  brothers  went,  but  did  not  get  her.  They 
carried  her  too  far  into  the  country  of  the  Crees  and 
she  is  dead  maybe.  We  will  never  see  her  again!” 

“Never  again?”  . , . 

The  psychological  moment  had  arrived,  and  the 
dramatic  instinct  that  had  planned  this  seance  recog- 
nized the  fact. 


160  FATHER  LACOMBE  1868 

“Marguerite,”  he  called  into  the  tent.  “Come 
here!” 

In  a trice  their  lost  girl — active,  strong  and  radi- 
antly glad  to  look  on  her  people  again — emerged 
from  the  dusky  interior.  With  a searching  glance 
through  the  crowd  she  ran  directly  to  the  arms  of  her 
mother.  The  astounded  silence  was  broken  with  cries 
of  joy,  and  women  crowded  about  the  mother  who 
now  lay  silent  in  her  daughter’s  arms:  while  the  men 
pushed  close  to  Arsous-kitsi-rarpi — The-Man-of-the- 
Good-Heart. 

They  touched  his  hands  and  face  and  gown.  They 
told  him  their  thanks  in  fervent  language,  and  they 
shouted  his  name — Arsous-kitsi-rarpi ! till  the  coulees 
rang.  Then  with  the  young  men  riding  ahead  as 
couriers  Father  Lacombe  was  brought  in  a savage 
procession  to  the  Sarcee  camp,  where  there  were 
songs  of  triumph  and  orations  by  the  chiefs. 

Truly,  this  was  his  day.  “An  ineffable  moment!” 
he  says,  and  one  that  gave  him  more  influence  among 
these  people  and  spread  more  desire  for  his  prayer 
than  many  sermons  or  visits  would  have  accomplished. 

During  this  triumphal  progress  of  Father  Lacombe 
in  the  hunting-grounds  of  the  Chinook-kissed  south 
the  priest  of  St.  Paul  found  near  the  mission  the 
bodies  of  two  Indians  who  had  perished  of  hunger. 
The  only  other  item  of  interest  Father  Lacombe  found 
in  the  Journal  on  his  return  was  the  record  that  at 
Easter  “the  famous  old  Na  Batoche  and  all  his  family 
were  baptised.” 


1868 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


161 


The  items  recorded  in  the  Journal  of  St.  Paul  for 
the  remainder  of  that  summer  are  pitiful  in  their  reve- 
lation of  hardship  from  hunger.  Pere  Andre  who 
remained  in  charge  during  Father  Lacombe’s  trips  to 
the  plains,  could  starve  with  composure,  but  he  could 
not  look  on  calmly  at  his  inability  to  help  the  starving 
Indians  begging  for  help,  and  he  counts  the  days  his 
stout-hearted,  resourceful  confrere  is  absent.  He  also 
chronicles  in  the  Journal  an  interesting  incident  that 
marked  the  trip  from  which  Father  Lacombe  returned 
on  July  9.  The  latter  had  been  spending  several 
weeks  with  the  Crees. 

One  day  when  the  hunters  came  in  with  word  that 
the  Blackfeet  were  approaching,  the  camp  was  quickly 
put  in  a state  of  defence.  Pits  were  dug  to  conceal 
their  persons,  the  horses  were  hobbled  within  the 
camp.  Small  mounds  of  stones  were  piled  outside 
the  camp  to  shield  the  warriors. 

At  night  the  camp  waited  in  readiness  for  attack. 

“At  last  at  half -past  eleven,  when  we  were  all  tired 
waiting,”  Father  Lacombe  tells,  “I  thought  it  may 
all  be  a mistake.  Ha ! — I take  my  horse  and  ride  out 
of  the  camp  up  the  hill.  The  young  men  said  the 
Blackfeet  were  hiding  in  the  trees  across  the  valley, 
and  the  moon  was  shining  full  over  the  hill. 

“Up  there  I call  out — 

“‘Hey!  Hey!  Are  you  there  and  wanting  to 
fight?  Then  my  Crees  are  ready  for  you.  Come 
on,  and  you  will  see  how  they  can  fight.  They  are 
brave,  my  Crees,  if  you  come  to  kill  their  people. 


162 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1868 


. . . Come,  they  are  ready.  Do  not  wait  till  the 

dawn/  . . . 

“Oh,  my  voice  sounded  big  over  the  quiet  prairie. 
But  there  was  no  cry;  only  the  echoes  answered. 

“I  ride  back  to  the  camp  then,  and  I laugh.  ‘Let 
us  go  to  sleep,’  I say.  ‘There  is  no  danger.’  ” 

The  Crees  decided  to  leave  a small  guard  all  night, 
and  the  next  day  while  the  young  men  formed  an 
armed  escort  the  band  moved  its  camp  north  of  the 
lake.  While  there  were  no  further  alarms  it  was  dis- 
covered that  this  one  had  not  been  groundless. 

Sixty  Blackfeet  had  designed  to  attack  the  camp 
that  night.  Father  Lacombe  learned  soon  afterward 
from  Big  Eagle,  one  of  their  old  men.  But  they 
would  not  fight  when  they  heard  the  voice  of  Arsons - 
kitsi-rarpi , who  had  been  in  their  own  camp  at  Three 
Ponds. 

That  brief  bold  midnight  harangue  to  the  ambushed 
Blackfeet  warriors  is  worth  noting.  It  is  a vivid 
illustration  of  the  instinctive  art  with  which  Father 
Lacombe’s  Indian  career  was  lit,  as  from  day  to  day 
he  played  on  the  Indian  nature  as  a musician  on  his 
harp. 

To  Father  Lacombe  the  most  important  event  of 
the  year  was  Bishop  Grandin’s  arrival  at  St.  Albert. 
This  marked  the  elevation  of  the  half-breed  colony  to 
the  dignity  of  a episcopal  see.  It  also  marked  a long 
advance  from  the  arrival  of  Bishop  Provencher  just 
fifty  years  before  to  establish  the  reign  of  Christ  in 
Rupert’s  Land.  Then  there  were  two  priests  in  the 


1868 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


163 


whole  immense  territory  west  of  Sault  Ste.  Marie. 
Now  there  were  three  Bishops  and  close  on  to  one 
hundred  missionary  priests,  nuns  and  lay  brethren. 

Toward  the  end  of  August  the  Bishop  with  his 
caravan  of  carts  was  met  at  St.  Paul  by  eight  priests, 
the  Journal  notes — by  all  in  fact  who  were  at  work 
in  the  diocese:  Fathers  Lacombe,  Leduc,  Remas, 
Vegreville,  Moulin,  Gaste,  Andre,  Legoff. 

On  October  26th  he  entered  St.  Albert  escorted  by 
a cavalcade  of  Metis  horsemen  who  went  out  three 
miles  to  meet  him.  He  drove  in  under  an  arch  of 
greenery  erected  in  his  honour,  while  salvos  of  mus- 
ketry and  cries  of  welcome  rang  out  with  an  enthu- 
siasm rare  in  the  calm  wilderness.  Father  Lacombe, 
who  had  hurried  ahead  to  St.  Albert  to  direct  this 
demonstration  and  then  returned  to  F ort  Pitt  to  meet 
the  Bishop,  had  exhausted  his  own  and  his  confreres’ 
resources  to  make  this  entry  memorable. 

The  new  Bishop,  who  had  so  lately  within  the  Arc- 
tic fringe  chinked  his  own  huts  with  mud,  was  doubt- 
less fully  impressed.  The  first  day  he  officiated  in  the 
little  chapel,  however,  he  found  he  must  carry  him- 
self with  discernment  in  order  that  his  mitre  might 
escape  being  knocked  off  by  the  rafters! 

His  palace  was  of  logs,  sixteen  feet  by  thirty.  It 
was  uncomfortably  crowded,  and  the  diet  was  not 
select.  In  a letter  to  his  family  one  of  the  mission- 
aries resident  at  St.  Albert  then  has  left  a piquant 
description  of  the  external  life.  It  is  marked  by  a 
gentle  wit  characteristic  of  the  spirit  in  which  the 


164 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1868 


French  missionaries  of  the  early  days  turned  off  their 
privations  with  laughter. 

It  however  pictures  St.  Albert  at  its  worst — when 
the  mill  was  not  working,  and  the  vegetables  were  all 
consumed : 

“Eight  of  us  are  living  in  the  palace,  and  we  are 
one  on  top  of  another.  There  are  seven  of  us  in 
one  room  which  serves  at  once  as  a parlour,  office, 
carpenter’s  shop,  tailoring-place,  etc.  A buffalo  skin 
stretched  on  the  floor  with  one  or  two  blankets — 
behold  our  beds!  Mattresses  and  sheets  are  luxuries 
of  which  we  know  nothing.  We  eat  bread  only  on 
feast-days  and  then  in  very  small  quantities. 

“On  the  other  hand  we  have  pemikan J a species  of 
pounded  fat  meat  pressed  into  a leather  sack  ten  or 
twelve  months  before.  We  cut  off  pieces  with  an 
axe — it  is  almost  as  good  as  a candle!  We  have  also 
meat  dried  in  the  sun.  It  is  as  hard  as  leather:  but 
with  good  teeth  one  finally  tears  it  off.  Our  beverage 
is  tea  without  sugar.  With  this  not  very  recherche 
nutrition  we  nevertheless  are  looking  well.  I,  espe- 
cially— I am  taking  on  flesh  in  such  fashion  that  they 
call  me  Canon.  . . .” 

The  new  Bishop  speedily  attached  his  priests  to 
himself,  for  he  was  a man  of  high  principle,  unselfish 
and  notably  amiable.  With  this  he  was  possessed 
of  a zeal  for  his  work  so  ardent  that  during  the  past 
winter  in  France  Louis  Veuillot,  the  prince  of  French 
journalists,  had  said  of  him — “Cet  eveque  des  neiges 
fait  bien  comprendre  que  le  froid  brule.  . . 


1868 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


165 


“This  bishop  of  the  snows  makes  one  understand 
clearly  how  frost  burns.” 

On  the  11th  of  December  Father  Lacombe  left 
once  more  for  the  prairies.  He  experienced  no  hard- 
ships in  finding  the  Indian  camps  this  year,  for  with 
all  his  dramatic  instincts  and  emotional  nature  he  had 
too  strong  a vein  of  practical  sense  and  organising 
powers  to  make  such  a mistake  twice  possible. 

During  his  stay  in  the  camp  of  Sweet-Grass  he  was 
brought  to  a young  warrior  who,  having  his  hand 
badly  torn  in  the  hunt,  had  amputated  the  useless 
member  with  his  hunting  knife,  binding  the  stump 
with  the  cord  of  the  sinew  which  tied  his  breech-clout 
about  his  groins. 

Father  Lacombe  going  to  his  tent  was  horror- 
stricken  at  the  sight  of  the  mangled  arm.  Up  as  far 
as  the  shoulder  the  veins  and  the  flesh  had  darkened 
with  blood  poisoning,  and  at  the  wrist  was  a mass  of 
inflamed,  swollen  and  corrupt  flesh  in  which  the  cord 
of  deer-sinew  was  deeply  buried.  Putrified  pieces  of 
flesh  had  already  dropped  from  the  sore  stump. 

Father  Lacombe  felt  helpless  before  this,  but 
Sweet-Grass  was  relying  upon  him,  so  with  a prayer 
for  divine  assistance  he  nerved  himself  to  do  what  he 
could.  For  a few  moments  he  studied  the  anatomy 
of  his  own  wrist  to  avoid  cutting  into  any  of  the 
principal  arteries.  Then  insisting  upon  the  young 
man  turning  his  head  away  the  priest  made  a deep 
incision  with  his  razor  into  the  swollen  wrist — on, 
down — until  he  reached  the  buried  cords  of  sinew. 


166 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1868 


This  he  cut  and  with  the  aid  of  two  fine  sticks 
removed  it  entirely.  With  the  sudden  resultant  out- 
flow of  blood  and  matter  the  hitherto  stoical  Indian 
groaned  pitifully;  but  the  outcry  speedily  changed  to 
a sigh  of  relief. 

The  onlookers  murmured  approval,  and  taking 
heart  Father  Lacombe  bent  again  to  his  work.  He 
cut  away  with  his  razor  as  completely  as  he  could 
the  mortified  flesh  about  the  wound  and  burned  what 
remained  with  a stick  of  nitrate  of  silver — one  of  the 
few  medical  stuffs  supplied  to  the  missionaries  and 
traders  at  that  period. 

He  smeared  the  arm  and  stump  with  a thick  layer 
of  the  balm-of-Gilead  ointment  which  an  old  Black- 
foot  woman  had  taught  him  to  prepare;  then  ordered 
the  young  man  to  lie  in  bed  for  days,  forbidding 
him  to  eat  meat.  Dumbly  wondering  what  would  be 
the  outcome  of  it  all,  he  sent  up  fervent  prayers  that 
the  man’s  life  should  be  spared.  For  several  days 
he  visited  him  thrice  daily,  renewing  the  ointment  and 
burning  the  rotten  tissue. 

To  the  delight  of  the  whole  camp,  and  to  the  sur- 
prise of  no  one  more  than  Father  Lacombe,  the  young 
hunter  soon  gave  evidence  of  recovering,  and  in  three 
weeks  was  convalescent!  . . . Father  Lacombe 

exclaimed  with  the  great  Pare,  surgeon  to  four  kings 
— “I  dressed  his  wound;  God  cured  him.” 

That  winter  again  Midnight  Mass  was  celebrated 
on  the  prairies  in  the  house-tent.  Father  Lacombe 
did  not  return  to  St.  Paul  until  late  in  February. 


1869 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


167 


The  St.  Paul  Journal  records  Father  Lacombe’s 
return  on  February  27th,  1869.  One  of  the  horses 
had  died  during  the  winter;  the  one  that  remained 
was  as  thin  and  jaded  as  its  master.  But  he  was 
satisfied  with  his  latest  ministry,  exercised  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  in  a camp  of  almost  2,700 
Crees  lodged  in  400  tepees. 

Toward  Easter  he  preached  an  enlivening  mission 
for  his  former  proteges,  the  half-breeds  of  St.  Albert, 
and  at  its  close  gave  them  a rendezvous  for  a certain 
day  to  tear  down  his  old  bridge  over  the  Sturgeon 
and  replace  it  with  a new  structure — which  they  com- 
pleted in  two  days. 

Here  again  he  combined  with  his  spiritual  ministry 
vigorous  efforts  for  the  material  advancement  of  his 
flock;  and  as  usual  in  the  fields  or  pulpit  he  vitalized 
his  followers  by  the  spur  of  his  own  splendid  energies. 


XVI 


There  was  now  being  debated  at  St.  Albert  a 
question  which  had  already  been  considered  in  Feb- 
ruary, when  Father  Lacombe  returned  to  St.  Paul  de 
Cris  from  the  prairies  and  found  Bishop  Grandin 
and  Father  Vegreville  of  Lac  la  Biche  awaiting  him. 
It  related  to  the  improvement  of  their  freight-trans- 
portation. With  the  expansion  of  their  missions  the 
amount  of  money  paid  out  yearly  to  the  Company  or 
freighters  for  this  purpose  was  making  terrifying 
inroads  upon  their  slim  resources. 

As  early  as  1854  Bishop  Tache  and  his  able  lieuten- 
ants at  Lac  la  Biche  had  initiated  a movement  to 
improve  northern  transportation  by  navigating  the 
Athabasca  (hitherto  avoided  by  the  fur-traders  as 
too  dangerous).  This  had  now  been  successfully 
accomplished  by  the  missionaries,  but  there  still 
remained  a possibility  of  bettering  the  transportation 
system  to  the  south. 

As  noted  in  the  Oblate  Annals,  a new  method  had 
been  suggested  to  Father  Lacombe  and  the  Bishop 
by  “a  certain  number  of  adventurers  . . . from 

Benton,  a quite  new  town  of  the  United  States  built 
near  the  sources  of  the  Missouri.”  This  method  was 
to  ship  supplies  from  France  to  New  Orleans  and 
thence  up  the  Missouri  to  Fort  Benton. 

168 


1869 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


169 


It  was  obvious  that  Father  Lacombe  was  the  man 
to  examine  into  the  new  enterprise,  and  on  April  17th 
the  task  was  formally  assigned  him  by  the  Diocesan 
Council. 

“Plein  de  courage  et  d’audace ’’  he  writes  in  a mem- 
orandum of  that  trip,  he  left  St.  Albert  with  three 
Metis.  Each  man  rode  a sturdy  little  Indian  pony 
and  in  a cart  they  had  packed  their  tent  and  some 
provisions.  They  soon  left  the  tree-line,  and  for  days 
travelled  farther  and  farther  south  into  the  plains. 

The  Metis  were  very  careful  in  choosing  and  con- 
cealing their  encampments  each  night,  for  in  spite  of 
Father  Lacombe’s  assurance  of  the  Blackfeet’s 
friendly  attitude  toward  himself,  they  feared  a mid- 
night surprise  upon  their  ponies  at  least.  This  was 
a dry  season  and  many  creeks  were  dried.  So  they 
always  carried  a small  keg  of  water  from  camp  to 
camp. 

One  day  when  this  precaution  was  neglected  night- 
fall found  them  parched  with  thirst.  Father 
Lacombe,  searching  about  in  the  dusk,  found  a 
marshy  pool  frequented  by  the  buffalo.  He  brought 
a pail  of  the  ill-smelling  fluid  to  camp,  but  scorched 
and  gripped  with  thirst  as  they  were  all  refused  to 
do  more  than  moisten  their  lips  with  it. 

One  Metis  suggested  that  they  draw  blood  from 
the  carcass  of  a buffalo  killed  that  evening.  In  spite 
of  some  repugnance  they  refreshed  themselves  so, 
but  Father  Lacombe  could  not  bring  himself  to  it. 
All  night  he  lay  in  broken  sleep  tormented  with  thirst. 


170 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1869 


which — at  that  distance  at  least — seemed  to  him  more 
difficult  to  endure  than  the  hunger  of  his  trip  to  Nose 
Hill. 

At  dawn  the  party  spreading  out  over  the  plains 
to  look  for  water  came  upon  a small  creek.  They 
had  now  reached  American  territory,  as  they  knew 
by  that  grim  sentinel  near  the  boundary,  the  Chief 
Mountain — Ninnistakow — recalling  to  Father  La- 
combe  his  old  friend,  Rowand  of  Fort  Edmonton. 

The  next  day  on  the  banks  of  the  Missouri  they 
came  to  a straggling  village  of  log-cabins.  Small 
steamboats  lay  along  the  water-front;  fur-traders  and 
Indians  dawdled  here  and  there  on  the  dusty  street. 
The  whole  aspect  of  the  place  was  sunny,  lazy  and 
cheerful. 

As  they  hesitated  enquiringly  on  the  village  street 
a French- Canadian  servant  of  the  American  fur-com- 
pany approached  Father  Lacombe  and  offered  him 
the  hospitality  of  his  small  home. 

Benton  then  was  the  home  of  many  dashing  fron- 
tiersmen and  traders  whose  names  still  linger  in  quaint 
or  exciting  tales  of  the  old  trading-days.  I.  G. 
Baker’s  log-store  was  the  largest  in  the  village,  but 
among  the  rough-shirted,  big-hearted  traders  who 
loitered  about  the  sunny  streets  were  Tom  Powers 
and  the  Healeys  who  later  struck  gold  in  Alaska, 
Kaiser — and  ITarnois,  who  was  to  cross  Father 
Lacombe’s  life  again — Joe  Kipp  and  many  another 
who  was  to  find  his  way  across  the  border  into  British 
territory. 


1869 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


171 


The  news  soon  went  among  them  that  Pere 
Lacombe  was  in  town,  and  as  the  Blackfeet  had  long 
ago  carried  his  fame  across  the  plains,  his  arrival  cre- 
ated a stir  of  which  the  dusty  and  tired  Blackrobe 
was  quite  unconscious. 

As  there  was  no  money  in  currency  along  the 
Saskatchewan,  Father  Lacombe  had  brought  a letter 
of  credit  from  his  Bishop  to  the  Jesuit  missionaries 
of  Montana.  Borrowing  money  for  his  fare  to  the 
mission  he  went  there  by  stage,  only  to  find  that  the 
Jesuits  had  no  money  either.  He  refused  their  invi- 
tation to  wait  until  they  could  get  some  from  St. 
Louis. 

Instead,  he  returned  to  Benton,  resolved  to  go  for- 
ward to  St.  Louis  at  once,  with  or  without  money. 

Two  days  later  he  was  selling  his  pony  to  repay 
what  he  had  borrowed  for  stage-fare  and  to  renew  his 
Metis’  provisions.  For  himself,  he  was  a guest  of 
Captain  Rae  of  the  Silver  Bow,  who  offered  him  a 
free  passage  to  St.  Louis.  He  was  also  the  owner  of 
a well-filled  purse,  made  up  for  him  by  the  Healeys 
and  their  friends  in  Benton. 

The  Silver  Bow  made  slow  progress  down  the 
river,  because  as  “the  traveller  from  the  British  pos- 
sessions” recalls — “We  were  continually  slowing 
down  or  running  aground.”  Tree-trunks  and  sand- 
bars frequently  blocked  the  current. 

“We  did  not  travel  by  night  for  fear  of  accident  in 
the  shallows;  the  boat  was  tied  up  to  the  bank  like 
a broncho.  We  passed  the  time  talking,  mostly  in 


172 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1869 


English,  of  the  experiences  of  each  one.”  But  their 
finest  recreation  was  watching  herds  of  buffalo  come 
crashing  through  the  trees  on  the  river-bank  and  pre- 
cipitate themselves  into  the  current. 

“Imagine  our  boat,”  Father  Lacombe  writes  in 
vivid  remembrance,  “steaming  into  the  midst  of  the 
bison  crazed  by  the  shrieks  and  whistling  of  the  steam- 
engine,  and  the  reports  of  rifles  and  revolvers.  Im- 
agine the  tumult  caused  by  such  encounters!  The 
water  was  sometimes  red  with  blood,  which  flowed  in 
streams  from  the  bodies  of  the  poor  victims  massacred 
only  for  the  pleasure  of  killing  them.” 

The  night  before  the  steamer  reached  St.  Louis 
Father  Lacombe’s  generous  travelling-companions, 
miners  from  the  new  gold-fields,  surprised  him  with  a 
purse  of  over  one  hundred  dollars.  This  with  what 
the  generous  Benton  traders  had  given  him  left  him 
master  of  $300.  He  felt  himself  a prairie-Crcesus. 

He  was  now  in  St.  Louis,  the  birthplace  of  his 
friend  Brazeau  the  Blackfoot  interpreter  at  Fort 
Edmonton.  He  promptly  made  his  way  to  the  Uni- 
versity, but  paused  outside  its  hospitable  entrance, 
as  though  struck  by  his  own  temerity  in  thus  calmly 
claiming  lodging  in  what  seemed  to  him  magnificence 
embodied  in  masonry. 

The  massive  portal  and  mullioned  windows  of  the 
College  were  impressive  to  the  prairie  visitor  to  whom 
for  a score  of  years  the  measure  of  architectural  splen- 
dour had  been  the  Big  House  at  Fort  Edmonton  with 
its  two  score  of  glass  windows.  Glass!  not  parch- 


1869 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


173 


ment,  let  it  be  noted.  Was  it  possible,  he  asked  him- 
self, that  he  had  thirsted  on  the  plains  for  water  and 
watched  the  miners  slaughter  buffalo  only  a few  days 
before? 

A warm  reception  soon  made  the  northerner  thor- 
oughly at  home.  He  even  found  a close  link  between 
the  University’s  dignified  atmosphere  and  his  own 
smoky  house-tent.  . . . For  that  Pere  de  Smet 

who  had  been  a professor  here  forty  years  before,  was 
the  same  who  at  Fort  Edmonton  in  1845  laid  upon 
Father  Thibault  the  mission  of  Christianizing  the 
Blackfeet — and  it  was  Father  Lacombe  himself  who 
had  eventually  undertaken  that  mission. 

Archbishop  Kenrick  received  the  Canadian  voya - 
geur  hospitably  on  several  occasions,  and  his  whole 
stay  at  St.  Louis  was  finely  enjoyable.  But  from 
his  own  observations  and  on  the  advice  of  the  Arch- 
bishop he  resolved  before  he  left  to  report  to  Bishop 
Grandin  against  any  change  being  made  from  the 
Red  River  route  to  the  Missouri. 

Amply  supplied  with  funds  now  he  decided  to  go 
on  to  Canada  before  returning.  His  father  had  died 
the  year  before,  and  his  heart  urged  him  to  go  and 
see  his  mother  again. 

Entering  the  Palace  in  Montreal  unheralded  some 
days  later  he  was  greeted  with  heartwhole  delight  by 
the  gentle  Bourget.  Others  hurried  to  welcome  him, 
and  coaxed  for  stories  of  the  adventures  and  achieve- 
ments of  the  “petite  sauvage  Albert ? 

He  first  looked  into  the  circumstances  and  health! 


174 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1870 


of  his  good  old  mother  at  St.  Sulpice.  Her  son 
Gaspard  was  still  wandering  with  the  world  for  his 
pillow.  There  remained  to  Madame  Lacombe  near 
the  old  home  a married  daughter,  another  teaching 
school  and  her  youngest  child,  Christine.  The  latter 
had  developed  into  a bright  helpful  girl,  and  mindful 
of  the  missions’  need  of  teachers  her  brother  invited 
Christine  to  come  west  with  him  and  teach. 

Christine  readily  consented;  and  it  was  arranged 
that  the  mother  should  spend  the  rest  of  her  days 
as  a paying  guest  at  the  Grey  Nuns’  convent  in 
Montreal.  This  was  Madame  Lacombe’s  own  desire. 
A few  months  later,  dissatisfied  with  even  that  amount 
of  the  atmosphere  of  a city  which  penetrates  a con- 
vent, the  brave  old  mother  of  the  missionary,  without 
informing  him  of  her  discontent,  had  friends  arrange 
for  her  entrance  again  as  a paying  guest  into  the  home- 
like convent  of  L’Assumption  not  far  from  St.  Sul- 
pice. Here  she  lived  content. 

On  his  return  west  with  his  sister  F ather  Lacombe 
placed  her  in  charge  of  a kindly  Canadian  woman  at 
St.  Paul  de  Cris,  with  whom  she  remained  a few 
months  before  going  to  Lac  la  Biche  to  teach.  As 
for  himself,  when  he  had  reported  on  the  Mississippi 
route  to  the  Bishop,  he  resumed  his  ministry  on  the 
plains. 

Shortly  after  the  New  Year  he  journeyed  up  by 
dog-sleigh  to  Rocky  Mountain  House  to  meet  the 
Blackfeet  Indians  there.  As  chance  had  it,  Jack 
Matheson,  a young  trader  from  the  Red  River,  was 


1870 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


175 


going  np  to  the  Mountain  House  and  he  proved  an 
interesting  travelling-companion.  For  this  lusty 
young  giant  from  the  Red  River,  grandson  of  John 
Pritchard  the  private  secretary  of  Lord  Selkirk,  was 
brimming  over  with  gay  spirits,  with  lore  of  the 
hunter’s  world  and  tales  of  the  early  settlement  of 
the  Red  River. 

Jack  Matheson  was  himself  to  come  in  time 
through  many  wanderings  and  a life  of  much  colour 
to  be  an  Indian  missionary  in  the  Church  of  England. 
But  on  that  trip  behind  the  dogs  to  Mountain  House 
there  was  little  thought  of  prayer  or  preaching  in  the 
rollicking  young  trader’s  head. 

Disappointed  in  not  finding  the  Indians  at  the  post, 
Father  Lacombe  took  a young  Piegan  as  guide,  and 
set  out  on  an  arduous  trip  in  search  of  the  tribes. 
They  suffered  from  lack  of  fuel,  heavy  snow-storms 
and  snow-blindness,  finally  being  directed  to  the 
camps  bjr  a luckless  group  of  Blackfeet  who  were 
murdered  a few  days  later  by  a hostile  band. 

‘‘Before  these  poor  people  had  separated  from 
me,  I attempted  to  turn  them  back  from  the  direction 
in  which  they  were  travelling : I coaxed  them  to  come 
with  me,  but  they  were  deaf  to  my  invitation.  It 
seems  as  though  I had  some  presentiment  of  evil 
. . 1 wrote  Father  Lacombe. 

“I  could  not  remain  more  than  three  weeks  at  this 
camp.  I occupied  all  my  time  in  teaching  them 

i Letter  of  May  12th,  1870,  from  Father  Lacombe  to  his  Superior- 
General,  published  in  Annals  of  Oblates. 


176 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1870 


prayers,  the  singing  of  hymns,  the  catechism  and  par- 
ticularly in  making  further  studies  of  the  language. 

“You  will  easily  understand  what  trials  I had  in 
doing  this : to  grasp  the  sounds  and  fix  them  in  writ- 
ing, finding  the  meaning,  discovering  the  grammatical 
rules;  this  is  no  little  affair.  Nevertheless,  I made  a 
goodly  number  of  discoveries  in  a short  time,  and  I 
was  happy  in  the  progress  which  with  God’s  help  I 
had  made. 

“The  Indians  on  their  part  showed  themselves  very 
willing — even  eager  to  know  something  of  religion. 

“When  the  time  came  for  me  to  return  home  I set 
out  with  fifteen  families  who  wished  to  accompany  me 
to  the  Rocky  Mountain  House.  After  several  days 
passed  together  at  the  Fort,  I parted  from  them  with 
regret,  to  return  to  St.  Albert.  But  before  having 
the  pleasure  of  embracing  my  dear  confreres  there  my 
heart  was  torn  with  a painful  spectacle. 

“At  some  distance  from  the  Saskatchewan  River, 
as  I travelled  along  the  trail  with  my  men,  I came 
upon  some  Indians  who  ran  to  me  weeping.  They 
had  been  despoiled  of  everything  and  they  carried 
two  of  their  number  who  were  also  wounded.  They 
were  of  the  Black  foot  nation  and  were  the  only  sur- 
vivors of  the  group  attacked  by  the  Cree-Assina- 
boines  near  Fort  Edmonton,  eight  miles  from  St. 
Albert.  They  had  not  eaten  anything  for  three  days : 
they  were  floundering  along  almost  barefoot  in  the 
slush  and  ice. 

“Poor  unfortunates ! I could  not  restrain  my  tears 


1870 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


177 


at  the  sight  of  such  misery.  But  that  would  not  suf- 
fice; I had  to  give  them  some  help.  I distributed 
among  them  what  remained  of  my  provisions;  I 
tended  the  wounds  of  the  injured,  gave  them  some- 
thing to  wear  and  then  lent  them  my  two  horses. 

“For  myself,  I had  to  go  afoot,  but  I had  only  a 
few  miles  more  to  make.  . . 

The  miserable  Blackfeet  who  met  Father  Lacombe 
were  the  survivors  of  a small  trading  party  attacked 
by  ambushed  Crees  as  they  mounted  the  south  bank 
of  the  river  opposite  Fort  Edmonton.  Seven  of 
their  number  were  brutally  killed  and  two  wounded. 
The  survivors  had  fled  for  their  lives  leaving  their 
goods  behind  them. 

Their  tribe  immediately  sought  revenge.  One 
night,  before  Father  Lacombe  left  St.  Albert  for  St. 
Paul,  a courier  from  the  Fort  announced  that  a war- 
party  of  seven  hundred  Blackfeet  was  marching  on 
Edmonton. 

“The  Father  purposed  to  leave  at  dawn  for  the 
Fort  to  aid  in  averting  this  misfortune,  but  toward 
midnight  a fresh  courier  arrived,  and  he  departed 
immediately.  . . .” 1 

i Letter  of  Father  Leduc  to  Superior-General  of  the  Oblates,  Decem- 
ber 22,  1870. 


XVII 


A band  of  Crees  employed  in  cutting  cordwood 
had  first  brought  word  of  the  revenge-party  to  the 
Chief  Factor.  They  hurried  to  their  tepees  by  the 
Fort,  and  decked  themselves  for  battle  with  vivid 
streaks  of  vermilion. 

Chief  Factor  Christie  ordered  every  one  within  the 
stockade  and  the  gates  closed.  Malcolm  Groat  hur- 
riedly crossed  some  traders  from  the  south  bank. 
The  cannons  in  the  bastions  were  primed  and  every 
man  held  himself  ready  to  defend  their  stronghold. 

A flash  of  humour  relieved  the  anxiety  when 
Christie,  fastening  on  the  Chief  Factor’s  ceremonial 
sword-belt  and  sword,  found  that  in  days  of  peace  he 
had  so  put  on  flesh  the  belt  was  uncomfortably  tight. 

Malcolm  Groat  and  Harrison  Young  came  to  his 
aid  in  girding  his  solid  form  with  the  outgrown  belt, 
and  the  pinching  and  pressing  process  was  rich  in 
mirth  for  the  onlookers. 

As  we  have  seen,  Christie  sent  a messenger  gallop- 
ing to  St.  Albert  for  Father  Lacombe  and  some  of 
his  Metis.  Within  the  courtyard  painted  Indians  and 
anxious  whites  did  what  they  could  to  pass  the  unpleas- 
ant hours  of  waiting.  . . . The  Blackfeet  arrived 

before  dusk  and  lay  in  ambush  among  the  trees  on 

178 


1870 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


179 


the  south  bank.  They  announced  their  arrival  and 
their  intentions  by  repeated  firing  upon  the  Fort. 

The  bullets  whizzed  against  the  stockade;  a few 
found  their  way  over  it  into  the  courtyard,  but  their 
force  was  spent.  With  nightfall  the  real  danger 
came,  and  the  men  in  the  Fort  strained  their  hearing 
for  signs  of  life  from  the  ambushed  Blackfeet. 

Past  midnight  the  trampling  of  horses’  hoofs  was 
heard  along  the  St.  Albert  trail,  and  in  a few  moments 
Father  Lacombe  with  thirty  armed  Metis  hunters 
knocked  on  the  rear  gate  for  admission.  Their  horses 
were  speedily  corralled  in  the  stable-yard  within  the 
stockade,  while  some  of  the  Metis  were  sent  up  to 
the  gallery  and  bastions  to  man  these  with  the  handful 
of  traders  and  servants  already  there. 

The  firing  had  been  discontinued,  but  those  on 
watch  feared  that  under  cover  of  the  darkness  the 
Blackfeet  would  swim  across  the  Saskatchewan,  lurk 
in  the  low  brushwood  by  the  bank,  and  from  there 
creep  unobserved  to  the  stockade  to  fire  it.  This  was 
the  Indian’s  most  effective  method  of  atttacking  a 
Fort,  and  just  such  an  undertaking  as  had  destroyed 
Old  Bow  Fort  decades  earlier. 

Father  Lacombe,  who  never  carried  a rifle,  felt  his 
defence  must  be  of  another  sort.  Disregarding  the 
order  for  all  to  remain  inside  the  stockade,  he  went 
boldly  out  on  the  meadows  around  the  Fort  calling 
on  the  enemy  in  what  Blackfoot  he  could  muster. 
He  asked  them  to  fire  no  more  upon  the  Fort,  for 
he  and  the  other  white  men  were  their  friends. 


180 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1870 


He — Arsous-kitsi-rarpi — who  had  so  lately  come 
from  camps  of  their  people ; who  had  given  all  he  had 
to  their  wounded  kinsfolk — assured  them  now  that 
the  Company  was  indignant  with  the  Crees  who  had 
treacherously  fallen  upon  their  people.  He  de- 
manded of  the  ambushed  Indians  that  they  depart 
in  peace. 

His  absolute  lack  of  fear  for  his  own  safety  and 
his  anxiety  to  pacify  the  Blackfeet  came  close 
to  bringing  disaster  on  himself.  In  the  southwest 
bastion  beside  Malcolm  Groat  was  stationed  Donald 
McDonald,  a new  clerk  who  had  narrowly  escaped 
with  his  life  from  a Blackfoot’s  rifle  at  Fort  Carleton 
not  long  before. 

^ When  Father  Lacombe,  crying  out  his  friendly 
plea,  came  beneath  this  bastion — the  closest  to  the 
enemy’s  encampment — Macdonald’s  ear  caught  the 
strenuous  shouts  in  Blackfoot. 

He  recognized  the  language  without  its  meaning; 
guided  by  the  voice  he  took  aim  with  his  rifle  . . . 

and  would  have  fired,  had  not  Groat  and  a Metis 
standing  near  begged  him  to  desist. 

They  assured  him  the  voice  belonged  to  Lacombe — 
Pere  Lacombe.  . . . Even  if  he  were  new  to 

Edmonton,  didn’t  he  know  that  voice? 

The  priest,  meanwhile,  unaware  of  his  narrow 
escape,  continued  his  way  around  the  Fort  calling  out 
his  message  of  peace. 

Up  in  the  bastions  and  sentinel’s  gallery  all  was 
silent— as  still  as  the  war-encampment  across  the 


Fort  Edmonton,  1877 


1870 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


18* 


river.  They  waited  for  some  response  to  Father 
Lacombe’s  plea.  There  was  none  verbally,  but  when 
dawn  came  it  was  found  that  the  Blackfeet  had  quietly 
foregone  the  attack  and  pitched  off  for  the  prairies. 

Larly  in  the  spring  of  1870  Father  Lacombe  in 
compliance  with  a request  of  Bishop  Faraud  went 
up  to  Fort  Dunvegan  to  visit  Father  Tissier.  The 
journey  of  over  1,000  miles,  attended  by  unusual 
hardships  and  illness,  was  undertaken  solely  with  this 
object  of  fraternal  charity;  as  in  the  five  years  Father 
Tissier  was  stationed  there  he  had  not  seen  a brother- 
priest  and  had  endured  much  in  the  performance  of 
his  ministry. 

Father  Lacombe  travelled  by  pack-horse  and  canoe, 
with  one  guide  most  of  the  way,  by  the  Athabasca 
and  Lesser  Slave  Lake. 

The  trying  difficulties  of  the  journey  were  light- 
heartedly  put  behind  him  when  he  saw  the  welcoming 
form  of  his  confrere  hurry  to  meet  him  on  the  banks 
of  the  Peace.  Father  Tissier  was  still  suffering  from 
the  effects  of  a journey  to  Wolverine  Point  during 
the  past  winter,  when  he  had  both  feet  frozen  and  for 
six  weeks  lay  ill  in  an  Indian  tepee  sharing  the  semi- 
starvation of  his  hosts. 

On  his  return  to  Lesser  Slave  Lake  Father  La- 
combe rallied  the  Metis  of  that  post  about  him,  and 
began  the  erection  of  a permanent  mission-house  at 
Stony  Point. 

From  the  lake  he  continued  down  the  Little  Slave, 
the  Athabasca  and  La  Biche  Rivers  to  Lac  la  Biche, 


182 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1870 


where  he  found  his  little  sister  Christine  teaching 
school  and  striving  to  acquire  a taste  for  dried  meat 
and  fish,  the  only  food  she  had. 

But  he  had  no  time  for  brotherly  solicitude.  Ter- 
rifying news  awaited  him:  his  Indians  were  attacked 
with  a strange  fatal  sickness.  He  did  not  pause  for 
rest,  but  hurried  his  borrowed  pony  along  the  St. 
Paul  trail  to  the  urging  of  this  message:  “Your  In- 
dians are  dying  like  flies;  and,  running  away  from 
the  sickness,  they  die  along  the  trail.” 

The  epidemic,  which  started  early  in  July,  had  been 
carried  by  Metis  from  some  infected  Blackfeet. 
These  in  turn  had  taken  the  contagion  from  Indians 
and  traders  of  the  Missouri.  An  old  Indian  at  St. 
Paul  assured  Father  Lacombe  the  disease  was  small- 
pox, because  sixty  years  before  they  had  it  in  the 
country  and  it  ravaged  their  camps  in  the  same  way. 

Father  Lacombe  soon  found  himself  in  the  thick 
of  the  epidemic.  The  only  nourishment  he  could  give 
the  sick  was  bouillon  made  of  dried  meat,  and  they 
drank  eagerly,  for  they  were  thirsty  with  a great 
fever-thirst. 

Sometimes  he  was  occupied  until  midnight  with  the 
sick.  The  hour  before  sunrise  was  the  time  taken  to 
bury  the  dead.  Then  Father  Lacombe  would  call 
the  young  men  to  help  him,  warning  them  that  if 
the  bodies  were  not  buried  every  one  would  catch  the 
disease. 

Meanwhile  up  at  Victoria  the  Rev.  George 
McDougall,  the  Methodist  minister  who  had  come 


1870 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


183 


into  the  country  eight  years  earlier,  was  devotedly 
helping  the  Indians  around  his  mission  to  make  a 
valiant  battle  against  the  plague,  until  two  of  his  own 
children  succumbed  to  the  disease. 

At  St.  Albert  the  battle  was  being  fought  with 
such  reckless  devotion  by  four  Oblates — Fathers 
Leduc  and  Bourgine,  Brothers  Doucet  and  Blanchet 
— that  they  were  all  in  turn  stricken  with  the  disease. 

In  the  midst  of  Bishop  Grandin’s  work  with  the 
stricken  Indians  near  Fort  Carlton  he  received  a note 
from  Father  Lacombe  on  the  prairies.  It  was  pen- 
cilled on  ragged  brown  paper: 

“My  Lord,  I am  in  the  midst  of  the  dead  and  dying,  and 
am  now  hurrying  to  St.  Albert  where  our  own  men  are 
overcome  by  the  disease.  I fear  there  is  not  even  one  priest 
there  able  to  assist  the  dying.” 

Father  Lacombe’s  arrival  at  St.  Albert  was  timely. 
Father  Bourgine  was  down  with  the  disease;  Father 
Leduc  was  recovering,  though  marked  for  his  life- 
time with  the  honourable  scars  of  this  year’s  service. 
Practically  the  whole  settlement  was  affected  and  only 
two  or  three  of  the  school-children  were  able  to  be 
about. 

In  the  Annals  of  the  Oblates  we  read  in  a letter 
from  Father  Leduc,  December,  1870: 

“.  . . Father  Lacombe  was  again  near  St.  Paul 

in  the  midst  of  the  dead  and  the  dying.  When  he 
heard  of  our  distressing  condition,  he  passed  the  night 
administering  the  sacraments  to  those  Indians  who 


184 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1870 


were  in  danger  of  death,  then  flew  to  our  assistance. 
This  act  of  fraternal  charity  moved  me  to  tears;  I 
could  not  refrain  from  weeping  as  I threw  myself 
into  the  arms  of  this  good  Father,  who  arrived  so 
opportunely  to  help  us  through  our  difficulties.” 

When  his  confreres  had  recovered  Father  Lacombe 
hastened  to  return  to  the  prairie  and  like  Father 
Andre,  who  also  spent  the  summer  among  the  In- 
dians, he  had  many  gruesome  experiences  during  the 
epidemic.  For  the  numerous  graves  he  dug  his  only 
implements  were  knives  and  axes,  the  clay  being 
scooped  out  with  his  hands  or  improvised  wooden 
scoops.  Sometimes  ten  or  twelve  bodies  were  placed 
in  one  grave,  carried  there  from  the  tepees  in 
blankets. 

About  thirty  or  more  encampments  on  the  prairies 
were  affected  and  there  were  from  twenty-five  to  forty 
families  in  each.  Father  Lacombe  found  his  way 
to  most  of  these  camps,  performing  the  same  painful 
duties  at  each. 

One  morning  when  the  young  men  were  aiding  him 
in  the  burials  Father  Lacombe  sent  them  back  for 
the  bodies  of  two  children,  which  he  had  laid  aside 
and  covered  with  boughs  the  previous  night.  The 
men  went,  but  the  bodies  of  the  little  ones  were  gone. 
The  dogs  had  already  been  there;  only  the  torn 
remains  were  found. 

Father  Lacombe  heard  one  old  man  mourning 
tragically  over  this: 


1870 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


185 


“Great  Father,”  he  kept  repeating  audibly,  “is  it 
possible  that  you  let  us  die  with  this  horrible  disease  ? 
—and  then  we  are  eaten  by  dogs?’ 

Even  Father  Lacombe’s  doughty  heart  found  here 
its  limits  of  endurance  and  power  to  console. 

“I  could  not  say  a word  to  comfort  him,”  he  says, 
“I  could  not  speak.  It  was  too  tragic.  What  could 
be  said?” 

Instead  he  took  his  extra  shirt  and  socks  and  bits 
of  cotton  out  of  the  dunnage-sack  that  served  as  his 
portmanteau,  and  went  out  himself  to  the  repulsive 
task  of  burying  the  torn  remains. 

The  only  precaution  taken  against  the  disease  by 
Father  Lacombe  was  to  keep  a quill  with  camphor 
in  his  mouth.  He  did  not  fear  the  disease  for  him- 
self; he  was  too  busy  thinking  of  others.  But  one 
evening  after  his  rounds  from  tepee  to  tepee  he  felt 
so  deathly  ill  he  told  himself  his  hour  had  come.  With 
his  inherent  belief  in  the  efficiency  of  action  he  fought 
the  nausea  by  drinking  painkiller  and  taking  exercise 
until  he  was  ready  to  fall  asleep  from  exhaustion. 
The  next  morning  the  ailment,  whatever  it  was,  had 
disappeared. 

Before  the  close  of  September  the  epidemic  was 
over.  Father  Lacombe  estimated  that  over  2,500 
Crees  died.  Others  place  the  number  of  deaths 
among  the  Crees  and  Blackfeet  as  well  over  3,000. 
It  is  impossible  to  obtain  any  very  accurate  figures. 

At  St.  Albert  most  of  the  Indian  children  in  the 


186 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1870 


Grey  Nuns’  orphanage  died,  as  well  as  many  Metis 
and  Indians.  In  every  camp  on  the  plains  someone 
was  mourned. 

To-day,  1870  is  a year  from  which  Old-Timers  on 
the  Saskatchewan  date  modern  events,  as  previously 
along  the  Red  River  all  dated  from  1852,  the  year  of 
the  Great  Flood. 


XVIII 


The  great  progress  made  by  Christianity  this  sum- 
mer brought  consolation  to  the  Oblates  after  the 
scourge  of  smallpox  had  spent  its  virulence.  Their 
absolute  devotion  to  the  Indian  had  not  gone  unre- 
warded. The  pagan  warriors  were  moved  by  the 
unpretentious  heroism  of  the  priests:  it  had  shamed 
their  own  fear.  The  attitude  of  their  dying  friends 
enjoying  religious  consolation  also  had  its  effect. 

An  item  in  the  Journal  of  St.  Paul  records  2,000 
baptisms  of  adults  and  children  on  the  plains  that 
summer.  Among  the  many  conversions  was  that  of 
Papaskis  (Grasshopper),  a noted  medicine-man,  who 
embraced  Christianity  when  on  his  prayer  to  the 
Christian  God  his  daughter,  the  wife  of  Chief  Ermine- 
Skin,1  was  cured. 

But  the  conversion  that  delighted  Father  Lacombe 
most  was  that  of  his  friend,  Sweet-Grass,  the  bravest 
and  most  esteemed  among  the  Cree  warriors — the 
Head-Chief  of  the  whole  nation  of  Crees.  For  many 
years  the  Little  Chief  had  said,  “Leave  me  alone;  I 
will  tell  you  when  my  time  has  come.” 

Now  toward  the  close  of  the  epidemic  Father 
Lacombe,  calling  the  stronger  Indians  to  prayer  one 

i This  Chief  and  his  wife  still  live  at  Ermine  Skin’s  reserve,  south 
of  Edmonton. 


187 


188 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1870 


evening,  was  astounded  to  see  Sweet-Grass  and  sev- 
eral of  his  pagan  warriors  enter  and  kneel  with  the 
rest. 

After  the  prayer  and  hymn  were  concluded,  Sweet- 
Grass,  mindful  of  a chief’s  privilege  of  oratory,  rose 
and  asked  if  he  might  speak.  . . . 

“My  relatives,  my  friends,”  he  said.  “You  are  sur- 
prised to  see  me  here.  You  have  known  me  as  a 
strong  follower  of  the  beliefs  of  our  fathers.  I have 
led  in  the  medicine-feasts.  To-day,  in  the  presence 
of  the  Great  Spirit  and  before  our  friend  Kamiyo - 
atchakwe , I turn  away  from  all  that.  It  is  past, 
and  I will  hear  the  teachings  of  the  Man-of- 
Prayer.” 

Then  falling  on  his  knees  beside  Father  Lacombe, 
he  asked  his  friend  to  make  the  Sign  of  the  Cross  on 
him. 

The  priest  took  the  hand  of  Sweet-Grass,  made  the 
mystic  Sign  on  the  chief,  and  said  solemnly: 

“In  the  Name  of  the  Father — and  of  the  Son — 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  I receive  you,  brave  chief 
of  the  Crees.” 

Father  Lacombe  then  gave  some  hours  daily  to  the 
instruction  of  Sweet-Grass  and  the  band  of  followers 
he  was  bringing  into  the  Fold. 

One  evening  when  night -prayer  was  finished  and 
Father  Lacombe  sat  outside  his  tent,  smoking  and 
chatting  in  Cree  with  the  older  men,  their  causerie 
was  broken  by  Sweet-Grass  enquiring  abruptly  of 
F ather  Lacombe : 


1870 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


189 


“Are  you  going  to  baptise  me  soon?” 

“The  whole  camp  knows  I have  made  you  ready 
for  that.” 

“But  perhaps  you  would  not  do  it,  if  you  knew 
what  a man  I am  and  what  evil  I once  did.” 

For  answer  Father  Lacombe  slipped  his  crucifix 
from  his  belt  and  looking  on  it  said: 

“He  became  Man  and  died  on  the  cross  for  your 
salvation:  He  came  to  the  world  to  save  sinners.  If 
you  are  sorry  for  your  sins  He  will  pardon  you  all — 
to  the  greatest — and  the  waters  of  Baptism  shall  wash 
away  all  the  sins  of  your  past  life.” 

Sweet-Grass  shook  his  head  regretfully. 

“Hah!  . . ” 

That  Indian  exclamation  can  breathe  alike  the 
deepest  regret  or  the  keenest  triumph. 

“I  will  tell  you  about  one  time  of  my  past  life;  you 
will  judge,  and  some  of  the  old  men  here  will  know 
that  I speak  the  truth.” 

No  one  spoke,  and  for  a long  time  the  evening 
silence — filled  with  the  peace  that  had  come  again  to 
the  afflicted  camp — was  broken  only  by  the  low  and 
pleasant  voice  of  Sweet-Grass. 

He  told  of  his  despised  youth  as  a captive  among 
the  Crees.  Friendless,  neglected  and  taunted  with 
his  small  stature  the  warriors  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  him.  He-Who-Has-No-Name,  they  called 
him — until  one  night  he  slipped  from  camp,  went  far 
and  alone  on  foot  into  the  south  country,  and 
returned  with  one  Blackfoot  scalp  and  forty-two 


190 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1870 


ponies.  Then  amid  shouts  of  triumph  he  held  aloft 
a tuft  of  sweet-grass  dipped  in  the  blood  of  the  dead 
Blackfoot-Councillor.  An  old  man  cried  out  “Sweet- 
Grass!  Sweet-Grass!” — and  the  whole  camp  took 
up  the  name. 

“Sweet-Grass!” 

So  he  had  won  a name;  he  became  a brave,  a great 
chief;  but  his  soul  was  haunted  yet  by  the  thought 
of  the  aged  Councillor. 

Father  Lacombe  heard  his  story.  It  was  not  told 
with  bravado,  but  with  regret.  His  lonely  childhood 
had  developed  in  Sweet-Grass  a sensitiveness  and  fine- 
ness of  thought  unusual  in  the  Indian. 

The  wanton  murder  of  an  unoffending  old  man — 
when  in  the  act  of  worshipping  the  Great  Spirit  in 
His  symbol  the  Sun — had  weighed  on  the  mind  of 
Sweet-Grass  for  years.  He  loathed  the  crime;  the 
thought  of  it  had  held  him  back  from  a Religion 
of  Love  which  taught  “Thou  shalt  not  kill!”  He 
feared  the  missionaries  would  reject  him  when  they 
knew  all. 

Now  with  his  story  told  he  found  no  judge,  but 
a disciple  of  the  all-comprehending  Christ,  the  Man 
of  Sorrows,  who  had  said: 

“Let  him  who  is  without  sin  cast  the  first  stone!” 

A few  days  later  Sweet-Grass  was  baptised,  receiv- 
ing the  Christian  name  of  Abraham,  and  his  marriage 
was  blessed  by  Father  Lacombe. 

Two  years  later  the  latter  took  Sweet-Grass  with 
him  to  Saint  Boniface  and  in  the  Cathedral  there  this 


1870 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


191 


esteemed  chief  was  confirmed  by  the  chief  of  the 
Backrobes  in  the  West. 

In  November,  1870,  Father  Lacombe  with  Father 
Scollen  went  by  dog-train  from  St.  Albert  to  Rocky 
Mountain  House  and  spent  the  winter  there  collect- 
ing and  revising  notes  he  had  made  for  his  Cree  dic- 
tionary and  grammar.  In  his  many  goings  and  com- 
ings, by  the  firelight  in  Indian  tepees  or  log  missions, 
he  had  contrived  with  persistent  labour  to  make 
voluminous  notes  on  the  Cree  language.  They  were 
not  always  of  the  most  accurate,  but  they  were  the 
best  he  could  obtain. 

He  now  put  these  in  shape,  as  Bishop  Grandin 
wanted  to  have  them  printed.  At  the  Bishop’s 
request  also  he  undertook  to  write  a score  of  sermons 
in  Cree,  embodying  the  whole  Christian  doctrine. 

Early  in  December  his  work  was  agreeably  inter- 
rupted by  the  visit  of  a “young  Irishman,1  an  officer 
in  the  British  Army — a pleasant,  fine-looking  man,” 
Father  Lacombe  recalls,  “who  passed  several  days 
with  me.  I enjoyed  his  company,  and  on  the  eighth 
of  December  he  served  my  Mass  at  Rocky  Mountain 
House.” 

Butler’s  impression  of  Father  Lacombe  is  clearly 
conveyed  in  his  recent  work — “The  Light  of  the 
West” — where  he  says: 

i This  was  Captain  Butler  — the  late  General  Sir  William  Butler,  hon- 
oured veteran  of  many  campaigns  in  Africa  and  India.  His  book, 
“The  Great  Lone  Land,”  a classic  of  Western  literature,  was  published 
as  a result  of  this  trip,  which  he  was  making  as  a Commissioner  of  the 
Canadian  Government  to  report  on  the  conditions  of  the  Territories, 


m 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1871 


“In  the  winter  of  1870  I met  at  Rocky  Mountain 
House — a post  of  the  Hudson’s  Bay  Company — 
Pere  Lacombe.  He  had  lived  with  the  Blackfeet 
and  the  Cree  Indians  for  many  years,  and  I enjoyed 
more  than  I can  say  listening  to  his  stories  of  adven- 
ture with  these  wild  men  of  the  plains.  The  thing 
that  left  most  lasting  impression  on  my  mind  was 
his  intense  love  and  devotion  to  these  poor  wandering 
and  warring  people — his  entire  sympathy  for  them. 

“He  had  literally  lived  with  them,  sharing  their 
food  and  their  fortunes  and  the  everlasting  dangers 
of  their  lives.  He  watched  and  tended  their  sick, 
buried  their  dead  and  healed  the  wounded  in  their 
battles.  No  other  man  but  Father  Lacombe  could 
pass  from  one  hostile  camp  to  another — suspected 
nowhere,  welcomed  everywhere;  carrying,  as  it  were, 
the  Truce  of  God’  with  him  wherever  he  went.” 

While  F ather  Lacombe  at  Rocky  Mountain  House 
had  withdrawn  himself  from  his  picturesque  mission 
ambulante  and  was  studiously  at  work  upon  his  book, 
cataclysmic  events  were  shaking  the  nations  of  the 
Old  World.  Marvellous  as  it  may  seem  these  were 
conspiring  to  take  the  unknown  Oblate  missionary 
away  from  the  plains  and  the  tepees.  They  were 
going  to  place  him  in  a field  whose  limits  should  out- 
run all  Canada. 

Perhaps  Bishop  Grandin  in  his  sentinel  outlook 
upon  the  needs  of  his  diocese  was  the  one  instrument 
directly  shaping  Father  Lacombe’s  course;  but  the 
causes  were  more  remote.  These  western  missions 


194s 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1871 


had  up  to  now  been  maintained  by  the  gifts  of  friends 
in  France  and  by  the  alms  of  the  Council  of  the 
Propagation  of  the  Faith— the  funds  of  this  chari- 
table society  being  mainly  contributed  by  the  French 
race. 

But  France  was  now  upset  by  the  losses  of  the 
Franco-Prussian  war,  and  Pope  Pius  IX  was  the 
subject  of  most  persistent  and  disastrous  attacks. 
The  administrative  forces  of  the  Church,  confronted 
with  such  problems  at  the  very  centre,  had  little  time 
or  means  for  these  remote  missions  of  the  west.  The 
future  looked  almost  as  dark  as  in  1849,  when  the 
Superior-General  of  the  Oblates  decided  to  recall  his 
men  from  the  west,  until  the  touching  plea  of  young 
Alexandre  Tache  caused  him  to  change  his  mind. 

To  add  to  their  distress,  the  western  missionaries 
experienced  an  unpleasantness  that  is  one  of  the  inev- 
itable results  of  the  world’s  pitiful  division  of  creeds. 
Some  of  the  non-Catholic  traders  and  a couple  of 
other  missionaries  took  advantage — perhaps  naturally 
- — of  the  others’  weakness  to  tell  the  Indians  that  the 
Chief  of  the  Blackrobes  was  now  a prisoner;  that 
their  religion  had  been  humbled  and  they  would  them- 
selves be  recalled. 

This  spread  among  the  Indians,  and  some  un- 
friendly spirits  among  them  taunted  the  poor  priests 
repeatedly.  But  they  were  not  without  sympathy 
among  their  friends:  and  Father  Lacombe  recalls 
with  tender  amusement  the  martial  proclamation  of 
Sweet-Grass  that  if  the  Pope’s  captors  sent  traders 


1871 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


195 


among  them  his  warriors  would  not  give  them  their 
furs:  they  would  light  the  rascals! 

The  missionaries’  condition  this  year  is  referred 
to  with  feeling  in  a letter1  written  by  Father  La- 
combe  at  St.  Albert  on  May  20,  1871,  to  a member 
of  the  Oblate  Order  in  Montreal. 

He  is  appealing  to  the  Canadian  House  to  secure 
aid  for  the  missions,  since  nothing  can  be  expected 
from  France.  He  repeats  the  taunts  they  have  lately 
had  flung  at  them  on  the  Saskatchewan,  and  adds: 
“For  my  part,  and  I can  say  the  same  for  my 
brethren  of  Saskatchewan  and  the  north,  we  will  die 
of  hardships  and  privations  before  we  will  abandon 
our  Christians  and  our  poor  catechumens.  Already 
for  a long  time  I have  led  the  life  of  the  Indians,  and 
the  greater  part  of  each  year  I have  been  at  their 
mercy;  this  will  not  then  be  anything  new  for  me. 
Provided  I have  what  is  necessary  to  offer  the  Holy 
Sacrifice  I do  not  ask  anything  else.” 

He  announces  in  this  letter  his  intention  to  spend 
the  entire  summer  on  the  prairies  with  the  Crees  and 
Blackfeet. 

The  latter,  he  states,  are  in  an  alarming  condition, 
being  demoralised  by  American  whiskey-traders  who 
are  bringing  in  liquor  from  Fort  Benton. 

“Since  last  autumn,”  he  writes,  “the  process  of 
demoralisation  has,  alas ! made  very  considerable 
progress:  the  disorders  of  all  kinds  which  have  taken 
place  among  the  savages  and  these  miserable  traders 


1 Annals  of  Oblates. 


196 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1871 


of  rum  are  frightful.  We  have  done  our  best  to 
inform  the  American  Government  of  these  unhappy 
infringements  of  its  laws;  while  on  the  other  side  the 
Government  of  the  Red  River  has  made  a very  severe 
law  prohibiting  intoxicating  liquors  throughout  these 
territories.  But  while  we  await  the  coming  of  some 
impressive  force  1 to  compel  the  fulfilment  of  this  wise 
law,  we  suffer  unceasingly.” 

He  goes  on  to  cite  an  instance  of  which  word  was 
brought  during  the  winter  to  Mountain  House. 

“While  more  than  two  hundred  lodges  of  the 
Piegans  and  Bloods  were  drinking  with  the  Americans 
on  the  Belly  River  last  October  a war-party  of  Crees 
composed  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  fell  upon 
them  through  the  night;  but  the  Piegans,  although 
taken  unprepared,  did  not  let  themselves  be  beaten. 
The  Crees  were  almost  all  killed  by  those  whom  they 
had  ventured  to  attack  . . a result  which  was 

perhaps  due  to  the  repeating  rifles  supplied  to  the 
southern  tribes  by  the  Americans. 

Father  Lacombe  left  for  the  prairies  very  soon 
after  the  writing  of  this  letter,  for  he  was  anxious 
to  reach  and  bring  into  the  Christian  fold  all  those 
bands  on  the  plains  that  were  still  pagan.  With  him 
he  took  his  famous  half-breed,  Alexis  Cardinal,  who 
had  continued  to  be  the  most  faithful  of  servitors 

1 The  representations  of  Father  Lacombe  and  others  resulted  a few 
years  later  in  the  organization  of  the  now-famous  force  of  Mounted 
Police. 


1871 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


197 


and  religious  to  the  degree  of  eccentricity.  Alexis’ 
oddities  would  not  permit  of  Father  Lacombe  receiv- 
ing him  into  the  Order  as  a lay-brother.  He 
regarded  himself  as  a missionary,  however,  and  wore 
a semi-clerical  gown  of  black  stroud,  made  by  a half- 
breed  woman  on  his  own  instructions. 

Without  accident  and  without  hardship  from 
hunger  these  two  in  1871  ranged  far  and  wide  over 
the  plains  lying  south  of  Edmonton  along  the  Red 
Deer  River,  the  Rattle  River  and  well  into  the  coun- 
try of  the  Blackfeet. 

In  some  of  the  Cree  camps  visited  were  already 
many  Christians,  and  in  each  the  missionary  spent 
about  two  weeks  while  he  instructed  the  people  and 
fulfilled  his  ministry  generally.  He  baptized  several 
children  and  some  adults  who  had  been  catechumens 
and  were  already  prepared. 

In  a few  cases  he  performed  the  marriage  cere- 
mony, blessing  the  unions  of  “men  of  reputation” 
upon  whom  he  felt  he  could  rely  to  keep  their  word 
to  reject  polygamous  practices.  Several  warriors 
who  were  willing  to  accept  Christianity  had  rebelled 
at  a form  of  marriage  which  required  them  to  bind 
themselves  to  one  woman  for  life. 

“If  we  marry,  and  find  we  cannot  agree,  we  may 
want  to  leave  each  other.  Then  what  will  we  do?” 
they  argued. 

That  was  to  the  Indian  the  one  great  drawback 
in  this  strange  and  pleasant  Christian  religion:  its 


198 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1871 


Men-of-Prayer  not  only  objected  to  a brave  having 
two  or  three  wives — in  whom  he  sometimes  took  even 
more  pride  as  a man  of  means  than  in  his  band  of 
horses ; but  they  insisted  that  taking  one  woman 
he  should  cleave  to  that  one  through  good  and  bad 
seasons  and  good  and  bad  tempers. 

Truly  there  were  more  things  in  this  Christian 
philosophy  than  ever  chief  or  warrior  among  them 
had  ever  dreamt  of  before! 

One  such  protest  Father  Lacombe  recalls  in  detail. 
A man  of  middle-age,  who  had  embraced  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  continued  to  live  with  Margaret,  a 
Christian  Cree  and  the  mother  of  his  children;  but 
he  refused  to  bind  himself  to  her  by  any  such  solemn 
promise  as  the  marriage  ceremony  required.  This 
was  all  the  more  strange  because  he  had  a high 
regard  for  Margaret  and  had  never  taken  any  other 
wife. 

The  woman  had  for  some  time  been  anxious  to  be 
married  according  to  Christian  rites;  the  man  held 
back.  Finally  Father  Lacombe  told  William  if  he 
did  not  make  up  his  mind  during  that  visit  to  the 
camp,  he  would  not  permit  him  to  enter  the  House 
of  Prayer.  William  thereupon  consented  to  be  mar- 
ried next  day. 

Next  morning,  when  Father  Lacombe  threw  open 
the  skin  doors  of  his  tent  to  invite  the  people  to  Mass, 
he  found  William  and  Margaret  with  two  witnesses 
sitting  there  stoically  waiting.  The  four  rose  and 
stood  before  him  on  the  prairie.  Father  Lacombe 


1871 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


199 


again  spoke  briefly  upon  the  duties  of  marriage. 
When  finally  he  declared  they  should  cherish  each 
other  till  death  parted  them,  the  man  was  visibly 
excited. 

“At  last,”  says  Father  Lacombe,  “I  said — ‘Wil- 
liam, do  you  take  this  woman,  Margaret,  to  be  your 
wife  forever?’ — and  oh,  that  sound  so  terrible!  . . . 
you  cannot  know  how  ...  in  the  ears  of  the 
Indian  man.  He  say  quickly  to  me, 

“ ‘Stop,  Father,  that’s  all  fine  for  you  to  say  those 
words,  for  you  will  not  have  the  trouble  with  her. 
That’s  all  fine  . . . that  you  push  me  so  for 
marry  her:  but  if  she  give  me  so  much  trouble  all 
these  years  when  she  know  I can  put  her  away  any 
time — what  will  she  do  when  she  knows  I cannot  put 
her  away?’ 

“I  told  him  that  she  would  be  a good  Christian 
wife,  as  she  had  just  promised,  and  will  give  him  no 
trouble.  . . . But  he  talk  on  . . . and  as  I 

wait  I get  cross — myself — and  I say  sternly  to  her — 
“ ‘Well,  Margaret,  you  go  leave  him.  You  must 
separate  then.  You  leave  him  to  make  his  own 
moccasins,  to  cook  his  meals,  to  pound  his  pemmican. 
Yes,  Margaret,  you  go!’ 

“William  softened — as  I know  he  would — at  that 
thought  of  separation,  for  Margaret  was  a smart, 
good  woman,  and  he  say  quickly  again: 

“ ‘No,  I do  not  want  that.  I have  said  I will  marry 
her,  and  I will.  But  I want  to  speak  my  mind  first 
about  what  trouble  she  may  make  for  me.’  ” 


200 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1871 


So  the  ceremony  went  on.  And  Father  Lacombe 
was  always  happy  to  know  later  that  William  and 
Margaret  lived  together  as  contented  as  before,  until 
death  took  one  away. 


XIX 


Father  Lacombe  spent  part  of  the  summer  of 
1871  with  the  Blackfeet  Indians  in  the  heart  of  their 
own  country.  The  camps  were  pleasantly  pitched, 
and  buffalo  were  abundant  in  the  valley.  The  time 
was  favourable  for  teaching  Christianity. 

Unaware  that  Bishop  Grandin  was  then  planning 
a new  course  for  him,  he  was  working  out  in  his  own 
mind  a distinct  campaign  for  himself:  just  as  ten 
years  earlier  he  planned  the  establishment  of  St. 
Albert  and  St.  Paul  de  Cris. 

These  missions  were  now  in  touch  with  civilization; 
he  could  leave  them  to  the  younger  priests;  for  him- 
self— with  his  partial  knowledge  of  the  Blackfoot 
tongue  and  warm  friendship  for  the  race — he  would 
select  the  mission  of  converting  the  Blackfeet. 

Up  to  this  time  he  had  been  their  only  missionary, 
and  his  ministry  had  been  necessarily  interrupted. 
Now  he  felt  he  must  devote  himself  entirely  to  them. 
The  very  difficulties  of  the  work  appealed  to  his  high 
spirit.  He  already  saw  in  his  dreams  a prosperous 
Blackfoot  mission  on  the  Bow  River.  He  would  con- 
secrate it  to  Our  Lady  of  Peace  as  a token  of  the 
pledge  his  Blackfeet  must  give  him  to  cease  warring 
upon  their  old  enemies,  the  Crees. 

In  a campaign  of  instruction  that  summer,  Father 

201 


202 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1871 


Lacombe  found  that  his  Blackfeet  were  not  docile 
and  appreciative  as  his  Cree  neophytes  had  been. 
One  afternoon  along  the  Bow,  when  he  had  tired  of 
the  Indians’  camp  and  company,  he  walked  away 
by  the  river  to  read  the  day’s  office  in  his  breviary, 
and  to  pray  there  in  quietness. 

After  a time  of  this  pleasant  retirement  he  looked 
up  to  see  two  men  standing  near. 

“What  do  you  want?”  he  asked,  with  a touch  of 
impatience. 

“We  watch  you  pray.  Are  you  praying  for  us?” 

“Yes;  for  all  your  people.” 

Then  they  sat  with  him,  questioning  him  about  the 
Creator,  the  world,  its  age,  how  the  world  was  peo- 
pled— and  a number  of  questions  that  had  not  wor- 
ried his  Cree  friends  at  all.  These  warriors  were 
more  interested  apparently  in  history  than  in  doc- 
trine, and  he  felt  that  unlike  most  savage  tribes  they 
were  to  be  won  through  their  reason  and  not  through 
their  hearts  alone. 

At  last  he  felt  he  had  got  a foothold,  and  he  turned 
to  his  task  with  fresh  enthusiasm.  He  spent  the 
afternoon  answering  their  questions  and  explaining 
difficult  points  to  them.  As  he  defined  the  Trinity 
he  drew  a circle  in  the  sand  with  a triangle  set  in 
it,  making  of  this  a symbol  of  Eternity,  without 
beginning  or  end,  and  of  the  divine  Person  revealed 
to  Humanity  in  three  phases. 

Father  Lacombe  continued  drawing  pictures  in  the 


1871 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


205 


sand — and  the  interest  and  understanding  of  his  war- 
riors developed  more  rapidly  than  he  ever  hoped  it 
would. 

“That  night  I went  back  to  my  tent,”  he  says, 
“and  a new  plan  was  with  me  all  the  time.  I dreamt 
of  that.  The  next  morning  I took  a parchment  of 
buffalo-skin  and  with  a dead  coal  I made  all  those 
signs  again  on  the  skin,  with  many  more.  I nailed 
it  on  a pole  in  the  middle  of  the  camp  and  called  the 
people  about  me.  Every  day  after  that  while  I 
stayed  among  them  I made  my  instructions  there, 
and  the  Indians  learned  so  fast  I was  happy. 

“At  St.  Albert,  where  I spent  a part  of  that  winter 
with  the  Bishop,  I made  with  ink  and  paper  a longer 
history  1 with  these  pictures.  It  started  at  the  Cre- 
ation, and  went  down  through  Bible  history  to  the 
coming  of  Christ;  then  through  the  history  of  the 
Church  and  all  Life  on  our  pilgrimage  to  Heaven. 
The  echelle — the  Ladder — the  other  priests  called  it 
for  its  shape,  and  they  laughed  at  my  plan.  But  they 
liked  it  too. 

“When  I went  to  Montreal  the  next  year  the  Sis- 
ters of  the  Congregation  made  a fine  copy  for  me  in 
colours,  and  I had  many  thousand  copies  of  it  printed 
in  France.” 

i This  Ladder  (a  Bible  and  Church  history  in  pictures)  of  Father 
Lacombe  was  shown  a few  years  later  to  Pope  Pius  IX,  and  its  in- 
genious plan  so  appealed  to  him  that  he  ordered  several  thousand  copies 
made,  that  they  might  be  available  for  Mission-work  among  the  savage 
tribes  in  different  parts  of  the  world. 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1871 


204 

This  summer,  marked  by  the  invention  of  his  pic- 
ture-catechism, was  destined  to  be  the  last  of  Father 
Lacombe’s  mission  ambulante  on  the  plains. 

Up  to  this  time  the  Saskatchewan  Valley  had 
smiled  to  Heaven  in  the  virginal  freshness  that  moved 
Franchere  to  rhapsody  a century  and  a half  earlier. 

The  seventies  ushered  in  the  beginning  of  the  end 
of  the  wilderness.  Outside  forces  were  moving  to  its 
wakening.  Well-based  rumour  had  it  that  the  rail- 
way to  the  Pacific  would  pass  through  the  Saskatche- 
wan valley.  Canada  was  in  honour  bound  to  keep 
its  Confederation-promise  and  give  British  Columbia 
this  railway  connection  with  the  east;  and  to  all  who 
knew  the  west  it  was  apparent  that  the  logical  route 
lay  through  the  fertile  Saskatchewan  belt  and  across 
the  easy  grades  of  the  Pine  River  Pass. 

The  Hudson’s  Bay  Company — every  man  of  the 
ancient  corporation,  from  stately  directors  at  Fen- 
church  Street  to  the  traders  in  the  outposts — looked 
on  with  dismay.  A railway  to  be  built  into  the  heart 
of  their  best  fur-country!  Appaling!  . . . 

the  fur-trade  would  vanish  in  its  wake.  The  calam- 
ity must  be  averted — as  the  diplomatic  and  powerful 
company  knew  well  how  to  avert  any  peril  to  its 
interests. 

Bishop  Grandin  likewise  heard  the  rumour  with 
anxiety,  but  with  no  desire  to  postpone  what  he  con- 
sidered both  inevitable  and  just.  His  anxiety  was 
due  to  the  conviction  that  this  railway  would  bring 
a great  tide  of  immigration,  the  consequence  of  which 


1872 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


205 


would  be  serious  for  the  Indians  if  they  were  left 
unprepared  to  meet  it. 

The  Bishop  had  made  a comprehensive  study  of  his 
diocese.  He  was  now  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  conditions  and  dispositions  of  his  Indians.  As 
a result  he  had  determined  to  provide  both  Indians 
and  Metis  with  schools : and  these  must  be  adequately 
equipped  schools  in  which  the  white  man’s  civilization 
might  be  inculcated  in  the  children. 

In  this  way  he  became  the  originator  of  the  existing 
system  of  Canadian  Indian  Schools. 

On  April  2,  1872,  the  Bishop  received  Papal  Bulls 
erecting  a separate  diocese  of  St.  Albert,  and  de- 
fining the  ecclesiastical  province  of  St.  Boniface  which 
was  to  become  a metropolitan  see.  Now  that  he  had 
attained  to  the  undivided  responsibilities  of  a large 
diocese  he  felt  impelled  to  take  up  with  Father  La- 
combe  this  pressing  question  of  Indian  schools. 

For  some  reason  he  chose  to  impart  his  plans  to 
his  associate  by  letter  rather  than  in  person.  Per- 
haps he  felt  that  he  could  do  it  more  easily  so,  since 
it  was  a hard  task  he  was  about  to  impose  and  he  re- 
gretted the  necessity  for  it.  He  knew  that  Father 
Lacombe  had  his  heart  set  upon  Christianizing  the 
Blackfeet,  but  that  project  must  remain  in  abeyance 
for  the  greater  need. 

Father  Lacombe  was  the  only  man  for  the  new 
work.  Of  the  fifteen  missionary  priests  then  in  St. 
Albert  diocese  he  alone  was  of  Canadian  birth,  and  it 
was  to  Canada  this  new  appeal  had  to  be  made. 


206 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1872 


France  was  doing,  or  had  done,  her  part:  the  Church 
in  Canada  should  now  face  her  responsibilities. 

The  Bishop’s  letter  here  translated  from  the  orig- 
inal French,  sums  up  the  needs  of  the  diocese  and  is 
in  itself  a notable  document : 

“On  the  Banks  of  the  Beaver  River,  April  21,  1872. 
“My  reverend  and  dear  Father  Lacombe , 

“I  am  spending  Sunday  here  on  the  left  bank  of  the  beauti- 
ful Beaver.  Last  night  after  being  in  the  water  up  to  our 
knees  for  two  hours  fording  the  smaller  stream,  we  arrived 
here  too  late  to  undertake  another  crossing. 

“ As  a member  of  our  Order  you  are  my  ad- 

viser and  my  first  counsellor  . 

“So  I nominate  you  by  these  presents  my  Vicar-General. 
It  is  not  an  honorary  title  that  I desire  to  give  you.  It  is  a 
charge  I impose  on  you,  the  difficulties  of  which  will  soon 
confront  you ; but  with  the  grace  of  God  you  will  surmount 
them. 

“At  the  present  .moment  you  know  as  well  as  I,  what  we 
can  do  with  the  resources  which  we  have  at  our  disposal.  We 
can,  it  is  true,  live  in  a poor  way,  but  we  cannot  inaugurate 
anything.  You  are  begging  me  to  establish  the  mission  of 
Our  Lady  of  Peace  among  the  Blackfeet;  also  another 
among  the  Crees.  And  how  many  other  places  there  are 
where  our  missionaries  are  on  the  rack  and  appealing  for 
help  ? 

“It  is  necessary  then  to  procure  resources  in  some  way ; 
our  zeal  will  be  paralyzed  for  lack  of  means  to  carry  on  the 
work.  Notwithstanding  the  number  of  missions  which  we 
ought  to  establish,  we  are  reduced  to  employing  several 


1872 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


207 


Fathers  simply  as  school-teachers;  is  it  not  a desperate  state 
of  affairs? 

“It  is  necessary,  mon  cher,  for  you  to  abandon  your 
Indians  for  this  year:  I shall  myself  so  far  as  I am  able,  go 
in  your  stead  to  dispense  the  bread  of  the  Divine  Word. 

“And  you,  where  are  you  to  go?  Go  I pray  you,  into  your 
own  country  holding  out  your  hands  to  your  friends  and 
mine. 

“It  pains  me  to  impose  this  onerous  mission  on  you.  It 
is,  I know,  an  imposition  on  Canada,  which  has  already  shown 
so  much  interest  in  us;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  we  cannot 
stand  on  our  dignity — when  it  is  as  now  a question  of  life  or 
death — if  we  would  avoid  seeing  the  young  Church  of  St. 
Albert  diocese  die  at  its  birth. 

“When,  in  the  last  Council  of  Quebec,  there  was  question 
of  asking  Rome  to  erect  the  ecclesiastical  province  of  St. 
Boniface,  I opposed  it,  fearing  that  once  separated  from  the 
mother  Province  we  should  be  somewhat  abandoned  by  her. 
The  Reverend  Fathers  of  the  Council  reassured  me  on  this 
point : I am  convinced  that  they  will  all  now  regard  your  op- 
erations favourably. 

“I  shall  ask  one  other  service  of  you.  It  concerns  the  ex- 
treme need  for  schools.  It  is  the  important  work,  the  only 
real  means  of  civilising  our  Indians.  . . .” 

He  here  details  a plan  of  raising  money  through  a 
charitable  association. 

“This  project  blessed  by  the  Bishops  and  by  our  Holy 
Father,  would  also  be  blessed  of  God  and  would  be  one  of  the 
most  powerful  means  while  conserving  the  savage  tribes,  of 
civilising  them — this  taking  hold  of  the  rising  generations  in 
our  schools.  With  the  permission  of  the  Ordinary  try  also 


208 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1872 


to  find  some  good  missionary  priests  and  some  young  men 
to  come  to  our  aid  by  entering  our  Order.  Finally,  pray 
much  for  us ; if  God  be  with  us  we  must  succeed. 

“I  am  not  giving  you  a celebret.  This  letter  will  prove 
to  those  who  have  the  patience  to  read  it  that  you  are  not  in- 
terdicted nor  suspended,  and  that  you  have  the  confidence  of 
your  Superior  and  Bishop. 

“Go  then,  my  very  dear  Father ; God  is  with  you.  Do  not 
regard  God’s  work  in  the  diocese  of  St.  Albert  as  my  charge 
exclusively ; it  is  also  yours . More,  it  is  the  work  of  the 
Lord,  and  we  are  his  instruments. 

“ Bon  voyage!  dear  Father.  I embrace  you  and  bless  you 
affectionately.  “Your  devoted  brother, 

“Vital— J, 

“Bishop  of  St.  Albert.” 

This  letter,  written  with  difficulty  in  the  Bishop’s 
tent  on  the  banks  of  the  Beaver,  was  both  a shock 
and  stimulus  to  Father  Lacombe,  totally  absorbed  as 
he  was  in  planning  the  spiritual  conquest  of  the  Black- 
feet.  He  took  it  as  a disciplined  soldier,  however, 
for  here  verily  were  his  marching  orders. 

He  was  by  no  means  enchanted  with  the  prospect. 
To  his  spirited  and  at  the  same  time  sensitive  temper- 
ament the  role  of  a mendicant  naturally  did  not  ap- 
peal. His  own  knowledge  of  the  needs  of  the  diocese 
and  his  sense  of  obedience  left  him  no  choice  however. 
Bishop  Tache  had  collected  $6,000  in  Quebec  in  1861, 
when  his  diocese  was  in  such  extreme  need  after  the 
fire;  why  could  he  not  do  as  well  for  St.  Albert?  he 
asked  himself.  . . . And  if  he  succeeded,  of  what 

moment  were  his  personal  humiliations? 


1872 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


209 


He  went  down  to  St.  Paul  de  Cris  early  in  May, 
closed  that  mission  and  set  out  for  the  east. 

He  made  the  long  journey  across  the  prairies  on 
horseback,  arriving  at  St.  Boniface  for  the  conferring 
of  the  pallium  on  Archbishop  Tache.  St.  Jean  Bap- 
tiste’s Day  was  included  in  the  celebration,  which  took 
the  form  of  a tourney  of  speech-making.  F ather  La- 
combe  delivered  his  oration  in  Cree. 

He  found  the  past  two  years  had  brought  many 
changes  along  the  Red  River.  On  the  bank  opposite 
the  twin-towered  cathedral  of  his  friend,  the  frontier 
town  of  Winnipeg  had  grown  up  about  old  Fort 
Garry. 

Mariaggi,  the  epic-caterer  of  the  frontier,  had  al- 
ready opened  the  first  of  his  chain  of  western  cafes. 
An  empty  hall  in  the  sprawling  town  had  actually 
been  turned  into  a theatre — while  newcomers  were 
being  pressed  to  buy  town  lots  for  $50  each!  Win- 
nipeg, in  very  fact,  was  a lusty  infant  creeping  to- 
ward its  disastrous  boom  period. 

At  St.  Boniface  he  turned  his  back  on  the  west 
and  entered  upon  a new  life  of  service  in  which  he  was 
to  traverse  continents  as  before  he  traversed  the 
plains. 

It  was  a life  in  which  he  would  learn  that  the  cold 
splendour  of  European  courts  could  shelter  more 
heart-hunger  than  the  smoky  lodges  of  his  Indians; 
and  that  the  Gros-Bonnets,  the  Big  Chiefs  of  the 
white  men,  were  no  more  formidable  on  acquaintance 
than  his  old  friends,  Natous  and  Sweet-Grass. 


PART  II 


“Pursue  the  West  but  long  enough,  ’tis  East!" 


I 


When  Father  Lacombe  returned  to  Montreal, 
fresh  from  the  life  of  the  plains,  he  surveyed  the 
changing  east  with  some  awe  and  a great  deal  of 
appreciation. 

Behind  him  he  had  left  the  “tall  young  Adam  of 
the  west,”  struggling  along  its  Red  River  fringe  to 
a consciousness  of  its  own  possibilities — but  for  the 
rest  a wilderness  overrun  by  insouciant  Indians, 
Metis  and  fur-traders. 

Before  him  in  the  east  he  saw  a new  Canada  rising 
out  of  the  grave  of  Old  World  feudalism:  a superb 
figure  that,  reaching  out  to  closer  union  with  the 
spectacular  young  giant  of  the  west,  would  soon 
stand  forth  as  a nation. 

The  score  of  years  that  had  elapsed  since  he  went 
away  had  been  fruitful  of  changes  in  the  gray  streets 
of  Montreal,  but  in  himself  the  alteration  was  even 
more  striking.  He  had  travelled  a long  way  from 
the  timid  young  Levite  who  wept  as  he  said  good- 
bye to  the  gentle  Bourget  in  1852. 

To  easterners  his  strenuous  personality  and  his 
stories  were  alike  unique  and  pleasing.  Wherever 
he  went  he  was  welcomed  royally.  It  was  a strangely 
cold  heart  into  which  this  “spoiled  child  of  Provi- 
dence” could  not  creep. 


213 


2U 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


187^ 


His  first  duty  was  to  call  upon  Archbishop  (later 
Cardinal)  Taschereau  of  Quebec,  to  lay  before  him 
the  needs  of  St.  Albert  diocese,  and  to  urge  the  estab- 
lishment of  an  Association  to  assist  its  schools.  This 
plan  did  not  seem  practicable  to  the  Archbishop  at 
the  time,  but  he  recommended  Father  Lacombe  and 
his  cause  very  warmly  to  all  the  clergy  under  his 
jurisdiction. 

“Ah,  he  was  kind  to  me — that  Cardinal — the  first 
time  I pass  on  Quebec  to  beg,”  Father  Lacombe  re- 
calls. “He  had  an  appearance  very  severe,  you  know, 
and  a face  like  ice.  But  behind  that  I found  his 
heart  was  very  warm.” 

Father  Lacombe  hated  the  role  of  beggar.  Each 
time  he  ascended  a pulpit  or  made  an  address  for  this 
purpose  the  free  spirit  of  the  “little  Indian”  revolted. 
He  had  lived  so  long  in  a primitive  land,  where  a man 
yielded  almost  without  the  asking  what  another’s  need 
claimed,  that  he  found  this  work  particularly  humili- 
ating. 

In  addition  he  dreaded  those  great  audiences  of 
critical  palefaces,  as  he  fancied  them  to  be.  His 
method  of  nerving  himself  then,  and  even  years  later, 
when  this  feeling  arose  in  him  was  unusual  but  char- 
acteristic : 

“Why  am  I afraid?”  he  would  demand  of  himself 
sternly.  “I  come  here  to  speak  the  word  of  God, 
to  carry  on  His  work.  . . . Ha,  I am  stu-pide, 

stu-pide,  but  . . . ! these  people  are  more  stu- 

pides  even  than  I! — Now  I will  talk.” 


1873 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


215 


In  a letter  to  a friend,  written  from  the  Arch- 
bishop’s Palace  on  Christmas  Eve,  1872,  Father 
Lacombe  anticipates  his  first  public  appearance  in 
the  ancient  Capital: 

“You  can  imagine  that  at  this  moment  I am  not  very  much 
at  ease,  haunted  as  I am  by  the  thought  of  my  exhibition  to- 
morrow morning  under  the  vaulted  roof  of  the  old  Cathedral. 
My  body  groans  in  anticipation ; what  will  I do  when  I stand 
before  an  audience  to  which  I am  so  averse? 

“But  what  petty  pride!  What  miserable  human  respect! 
Is  it  not  sad  to  see  so  much  self-love  in  an  old  Indian — such  a 
blockhead  as  he  is  too !” 

When  the  Congregation  nuns  had  reproduced  his 
picture-catechism  in  colours  he  took  it  to  the  Des- 
barats  house,  whose  head  had  500  copies  gratuitously 
printed  for  him.  The  Ladders,  as  he  always  called 
them,  were  then  straightway  shipped  back  to  the  mis- 
sions and  were  soon  to  be  found  in  every  corner  of 
the  West,  where  an  Oblate  had  penetrated. 

He  received  considerable  sums  of  money  during 
his  season  of  begging  and  remitted  all  happily  to  his 
Bishop;  but  no  benefactor,  as  previsioned  by  the  lat- 
ter, came  up  now  on  Father  Lacombe’s  horizon  to 
assist  him  in  publishing  his  Indian  dictionary.1 

i This  was  the  first  book  printed  in  Cree,  but  not  the  first  in  other 
Indian  dialects  of  the  West.  The  priests  of  the  Hudson  Bay  dis- 
trict had  books  in  syllabic  Indian  printed  by  Palsgrave  several  years 
earlier,  while  the  Rev.  Mr.  Evans,  the  Wesleyan  minister  who  invented 
this  syllabic  method,  had  some  books  printed  even  earlier.  Bishop 
Tache,  who  originated  the  Chipewyan  characters,  had  a book  of  prayers 
and  hymns  in  this  tongue  published  by  Palsgrave  in  1857. 


216 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1873 


Finally  an  inspiration  came  to  ask  the  Government’s 
assistance. 

“Surely  this  much  aid  is  due  the  missionaries  who 
have  been  so  strong  a civilizing  influence  in  the  west,” 
it  was  suggested.  And  the  Government,  fortunately 
falling  in  with  the  idea,  made  a grant  of  $1,000  to- 
ward the  publication  of  the  dictionary. 

It  was  found  necessary  to  defer  the  publication 
of  the  book,  as  Archbishop  Tache  wrote  now  asking 
Father  Lacombe  to  employ  all  his  energies  in  securing 
new  French  settlers  for  the  west. 

After  a brief  campaign  of  begging  and  coloniza- 
tion he  expected  his  recall  to  the  west.  Instead,  at 
the  close  of  the  winter  he  sailed  from  Portland  for 
Europe,  having  been  appointed  the  representative  of 
his  Archbishop  at  the  General  Chapter  of  their  Or- 
der. His  Grace  was  too  ill  at  the  time  to  leave  St. 
Boniface. 

When  he  arrived  in  France  Father  Lacombe,  like 
all  brother-missionaries  who  had  preceded  him,  went 
from  city  to  city  addressing  large  congregations  upon 
the  needs  of  the  western  missions.  Likewise  he  vis- 
ited numerous  seminaries,  endeavouring  to  inspire 
some  of  the  students  to  volunteer  for  the  western 
field. 

A copy  of  his  Ladder,  which  he  presented  to  the 
Superior-General,  so  pleased  that  dignatary  that  he 
recommended  the  publication  of  10,000  copies.  But 
during  his  stay  in  Paris  M.  Letaille,  a benevolent  old 
man  who  was  the  head  of  the  publishing-house  of  that 


1878 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


217 


name,  printed  16,000  copies  for  him  at  a nominal 
cost. 

Interesting  glimpses  of  the  impression  made  by 
Europe  upon  the  free-lance  of  the  plains-missions  are 
to  be  had  in  his  letters  to  F ather  Poulin,  who  was  then 
living  in  retirement  at  a Montreal  hospice,  failing 
in  health  and  threatened  with  blindness.  It  was  char- 
acteristic of  the  western  priest’s  sympathetic  nature 
that  his  longest  letters  were  to  this  shut-in  friend. 

From  London,  where  he  is  learning  metropolitan 
modes  of  transport,  he  writes  on  April  16th: 

“ I have  already  commenced  to  plough  London — under  the 
earth  and  along  the  streets  and  over  the  streets  and  on  the 
Thames.  . . .” 

He  speaks  of  visits  to  museums,  to  the  Lords,  the 
Commons  and  Westminster.  . . . 

“What  do  you  think  of  all  that?  I tell  you,  I do  not 
know  what  to  think  of  it.  It  is  doubtless  very  fine  for  you, 
civilized  men,  who  love  these  useless  statues  and  walls  gnawed 
into  by  Time,  with  all  the  shapeless  stone  towers  which  lift 
themselves  into  the  air  amidst  numerous  gables  and  turrets — 
and  the  more  knobs  and  holes  in  them  the  finer  they  are  con- 
sidered ! 

“Yes,  it  is  very  beautiful  certainly.  But  all  that  seems 
nothing  to  me  in  exchange  for  our  forests  or  our  prairies  or 
even  our  poor  chapels.  You  may  put  me  down  as  profane  or 
savage,  but  would  you  have  me  think  otherwise — moi , a poor 
missionary  to  those  whom  people  in  a sort  of  disdain  call 
savages.” 


%18 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1873 


Cartier,  the  invalid  Canadian  statesman,  Count 
Bassano  and  others  entertained  him  here,  but  his  visit 
to  Archbishop  Mamjing  was  to  him  the  most  im- 
pressive part  of  his  stay  in  London. 

He  writes  of  Manning  with  enthusiasm: 

“How  this  man  pleased  me!  What  a worthy  Bishop!  I 
made  him  a present  of  one  of  my  ‘Ladders,’  and  he  seemed 
enchanted  with  this  new  plan  of  teaching  the  catechism.” 

Could  the  sympathetic  Archbishop  be  other  than 
enchanted  with  the  ingenious  Ladder,  which  the  mis- 
sionary showed  him  gravely  as  his  one  tangible 
achievement?  He  likely  forgot  to  be  amused  at  the 
picturesque  jumble  of  men  and  porpoises  in  the  wa- 
ters that  conveyed  the  image  of  the  Deluge,  or  with 
the  lurid  rain  of  fire  that  is  seen  to  drown  Sodom. 
He  admired  instead  the  wonderful  ingenuity  of  his 
mind  so  appropriately  fitting  the  lesson  to  the 
pupil. 

During  their  conversation  Father  Lacombe  must 
have  made  some  reference  to  the  unseeing  sight-seers 
in  the  once-Catholic  temples  of  London — or  in  some 
other  way  introduced  the  subject  of  non-Catholics; 
for  many  years  after  as  he  spoke  to  me  of  this  visit 
he  recalled  that  the  future  Cardinal  talked  to  him  a 
long  time  about  their  separated  brethren — urging  him 
to  love  them  as  warmly  even  as  he  did  his  own  people 
of  the  prairies,  and  to  pray  for  them. 

“ ‘For  I was  one  of  them  once,’  the  Archbishop 
said  to  me,  ‘and  I know  how  they  believe  in  their  souls 


Father  Lacombe  Among  the  Indians  at  Rat  Portage  in  1881 
From  a painting  by  Sir  William  Van  Horne 


■ 


1873 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


219 


they  are  right — so  there  is  no  blame  for  them  that 
they  do  not  see  the  Truth.’ 

“Of  course,  I have  pray  for  them  before,  but — ” 
added  Father  Lacombe  with  delightful  naivete,  “that 
was  the  firs’  time  I truly  understand  the  Protestant, 
and  I begin  to  love  them — not  only  a few  like  Mr. 
Christie  and  Mr.  Hardisty,  my  good  friends,  but  all 
of  them:  to  pity  them  and  pray  for  them,  because  I 
love  them.” 

As  naive  a comment  as  any  he  makes  is  contained 
in  his  first  letter  from  Paris,  though  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  as  yet  the  writer  had  met  New  World 
English  only  when  travelling: 

“Before  leaving  England  let  me  tell  you,  for  your  satis- 
faction and  mine,  that  I have  been  enchanted  with  the  good 
manners  and  politeness  of  the  English  of  England.  How 
very  different  they  are  from  our  wooden  English  of  Canada 
and  the  United  States.  To  your  great  surprise,  doubtless, 
I shall  tell  you  that  not  once  from  Portland  to  Dover  has  any- 
one given  me  the  tiniest  trouble  nor  shown  me  the  least  rude- 
ness. This  is  a big  avowal,  is  it  not? — for  me,  who  find  it  so 
difficult  to  be  pleased  with  the  manners  of  ‘civilized’  people.” 

Paris  he  styles  satirically  “the  Metropolis  of 
fashions  and  good  government.”  In  the  French 
houses  of  the  Oblates,  where  so  much  had  already 
been  heard  of  the  Indian  ways  and  daring  of  their 
“fameuoc  Pere  Lacombe ” he  was  an  object  of  curi- 
osity at  first.  Plis  Superior-General  spent  a whole 
recreation  near  him  one  evening,  he  chronicles : 


220 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1873 


44  • and  at  the  end  I believe  he  was  convinced  that 

this  Pere  Lacombe,  whom  they  said  they  had  awaited  with  so 
much  impatience,  was  like  other  mortals  and  fed  on  the  flesh 
of  animals — not  human  bodies.” 

But  the  civility  of  his  French  cousins  bores  him — 

44I  have  begun  to  get  lonely,  having  no  one  to  argue  with 
me.  It  is  shocking;  they  always  agree  with  me  . . 

He  concludes  this  letter  with  “un  salut  a la  mode 
Parisienne  ” At  dinner  with  Louis  Veuillot,  the 
noted  journalist,  where  he  met  several  people  of  dis- 
tinction, the  meal  did  not  pass  without  an  amusing 
contretemps.  He  writes  to  Father  Poulin : 

44At  the  close  of  the  dinner  they  brought  bowls  filled  with 
some  liquid.  I thought  this  was  to  drink  and  was  on  the 
point  of  swallowing  it,  when  I had  the  sensible  thought  to  ask 
my  neighbour,  the  good  Mdlle.  Veuillot,  what  it  signified. 
She  laughed  and  said,  ‘It  is  to  wash  the  fingers,  mon  Pere.’ 

“Pugh!  how  they  laughed,  and  I cried  ‘ Vive  nos  sauvages! * 
— who  do  not  need  to  wash  themselves  so  often.” 

The  itinerant  missionary  spoke  in  churches  and 
seminaries  at  Strasburg,  Nancy,  Vichy,  Autun,  Brest 
and  Metz,  so  lately  ceded  to  the  Prussians.  After  the 
address  in  the  Seminary  here  “the  Superior  came  to 
me,  and  said  if  the  Prussians  had  heard  me  they  would 
have  put  me  in  a dungeon !”  . . . A fresh  adven- 

ture to  which  the  voyageur- heart  of  the  missionary 
would  not  have  been  averse! 

Father  Lacombe  did  not,  however,  meet  with  the 


1873 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


221 

success  of  either  Bishop  Faraud  or  Bishop  Grandin. 
He  could  not  speak  of  his  mission-life  from  the  view- 
point of  a Frenchman.  Consequently  while  the  ad- 
dresses of  this  unusual  missionary  echoed  like  pages 
from  a medieval  romance,  the  young  French  semina- 
rian was  not  drawn  to  emulate  him  on  the  prairies. 

Father  Lacombe  was  somewhat  discouraged.  He 
writes  that  he  is  continually  travelling  to  new  points, 
working  “like  a negro,  when  he  is  not  on  the  trains” ; 
that  he  meets  with  little  success,  and  if  the  tide  does 
not  soon  turn  he  will  become  desperate.  As  a name- 
less unrecognized  Indian  brave  might  do,  he  exclaims : 

44  ...  I will  become  a Prussian,  or  I will  declare  my- 

self a Jesuit  and  declaim  against  Bismarck,  so  that  I may  be 
imprisoned,  and  then  I shall  make  myself  a name.*9 

By  June  9th  at  Nancy  he  feels  that  he  is  civilised 
“almost  to  the  degree  of  these  proud  Frenchmen”; 
but  when  he  is  asked  to  dine  with  the  Bishop  of  Nancy 
he  lapses — and  describes  the  occasion  in  concise  Metis 
terms  of  the  camp  and  trail:  “We  made  grande 

cliaudier e!”  (We  had  a well-filled  kettle  of  food:  a 
feast) . 

All  through  Brittany,  which  had  sent  so  many  mis- 
sionaries to  the  west,  he  met  with  the  most  hearty 
welcome.  He  found  that  the  Canadian  Zouaves 
passing  through  Brittany  on  their  way  to  Rome  had 
made  a lasting  impression.  He  met  many  like  the 
Bishop  of  Varennes,  who  said: 

“Send  for  your  baggage:  you  must  stay  with  us. 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1873 


222 

For  we  Bretons  love  the  Canadians.  They  are  our 
brothers.” 

To  a government  official  who  enquired  concerning 
the  Indian  form  of  government  Father  Lacombe  re- 
plied : 

“We  have  the  true  Republic.  God  is  our  Presi- 
dent, and  we  hold  no  debates.  There  is  to  be  had 
only  among  us — Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity. 
Vive  le  Republique — sauvage !” 

In  Paris  he  witnessed  the  splendid  reception  ac- 
corded the  Shah  of  Persia.  But  the  heart  of  the 
plainsman  is  homesick;  he  is  gorged  with  sight-see- 
ing, with  the  man-made  splendours  of  cities,  and  he 
is  tired  of  it  all.  He  writes: 

“ . . . It  is  true  that  notwithstanding  all  the  beauti- 

ful things  which  I have  seen  in  this  France  and  England  I 
have  looked  on  sights  as  fine  in  the  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Saskatchewan  or  on  the  borders  of  some  of  our  fine  lakes. 

“Say  what  you  will,  you  can  not  take  this  belief  from  me. 
I am  writing  you  to-day  from  a nobleman’s  palace,  but  it  is 
not  as  precious  as  my  poetique  tent  in  the  wilderness,  where 
I wrote  on  my  knees  my  sermons  in  Cree  and  Blackfeet.” 

This  is  the  instinctive  Indian  in  Father  Lacombe 
speaking  now,  as  it  frequently  did  throughout  his  life. 

. . . Is  it  a reversion  to  type — some  strong  strain 

of  one  of  his  Indian  ancestors? 

Still  another  side  of  his  character  is  charmingly 
revealed  in  another  communication  to  his  friend.  On 
the  receipt  of  the  good  news  that  instead  of  being 


1873 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


223 


doomed  to  total  blindness  Father  Poulin  may  now 
hope  to  recover  his  eyesight,  this  letter  wells  up  from 
the  emotional  heart  of  the  Canadian  abroad: 

“ . What  gave  me  most  pleasure  in  your  letter 

was  to  know  that  in  the  next  there  would  likely  be  a few  lines 
written  by  your  own  hand ! 

“Thanks,  my  God,  a thousand  thanks ; and  you,  my  good 
Mother.  . . . My  friend  is  going  to  recover  his  sight! 

I could  weep  with  the  joy  and  consolation  of  it.  O, 

my  Lord,  Thou  art  satisfied  with  his  sacrifice  and  especially 
with  his  heroic  resignation.  Thou  hast  said:  ‘It  is  enough. 
1 know  you  now.  . . . Finish  what  you  have  under- 
taken.’ . . 

And  at  the  end  of  the  letter  he  prints  in  large  round 
letters : 

“NOW  READ  YOURSELF.  I SALUTE  YOU— I KISS 
YOUR  FINE  BLACK  EYES.  IN  THE  SACRED 
HEART  OF  CHRIST,  I AM, 

* “YOUR  DEVOTED  FRIEND, 

“ALBERT  LACOMBE, 

O.  M.  I.” 

Vichy  did  not  enchant  him. 

“When  people  have  bathed  they  soon  end  by  having  a fit 
of  blue  devils,  if  they  are  not  of  the  number  who  go  to  the 
theatre  and  other  pleasure-parties  which  they  put  in  the  way 
of  strangers  to  kill  time.  . . . For,  voyez-vous , the 

great  school  of  Vichy  does  not  suit  me  at  all. 

“It  has  for  a principle,  and  it  teaches  this  in  huge  letters — 
one  of  which  alone  would  fill  one’s  vision — that  when  at  Vichy 


224 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1873 


to  take  the  waters,  in  order  that  they  may  exert  all  their  in- 
fluence upon  you,  you  must  not  occupy  yourself  with  any- 
thing serious,  not  even  with  much  praying  to  God. 

uWe  must  simply  float  along  the  Boulevard,  go  on  the 
minute  to  the  spring  assigned  to  you ; look  up  and  down  the 
fairy  parterres  and  salute  right  and  left  the  butterfly -ladies 
in  their  afternoon  toilettes,  which  give  them  truly  the  ap- 
pearance of  those  insects  1 we  call  in  Quebec  ‘les  Demoiselles,5 
and  then — voila! — when  you  have  looked  up  and  down,  con- 
fused and  disheartened  at  all  these  imbecilities — then  to  tone 
up  your  system  mentally  and  physically  again,  you  go  and 
throw  yourself  in  the  Bath  . . . !” 

By  August  F ather  Lacombe  was  openly  pining  for 
the  Northwest: 

“I  am  thinking  very  much  of  our  missions,  and  my  imagi- 
nation is  continually  with  my  dear  friends,  the  Indians.  This 
loneliness  takes  my  appetite  from  me  and  sometimes  makes  me 
melancholy.” 

He  is  expecting  a visit  from  the  Superior-General, 
and  he  decided  to  ask  to  be  ordered  back  to  Canada. 
. . . “I  am  horribly  lonesome,”  he  declares. 

In  his  next  letter  he  relates  an  incident  to  amuse 
his  shut-in  friend.  His  brethren  in  Paris  tease  him 
about  it,  he  says,  but  he  assures  Father  Poulin  gravely 
that  this  has  been  the  one  disagreeable  incident  of  all 
his  travels. 

The  story  is  that  on  one  of  his  numerous  railway 

1 Quebec  countryfolk  call  butterflies  les  demoiselles — the  “young  la- 
dies.” 


1873 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


225 


journeys  he  one  day  entered  a compartment  without 
noticing  that  it  was  reserved  for  women. 

“Soon,”  he  writes,  “several  women  came  in,  but 
none  took  the  liberty  of  pointing  out  my  mistake. 
At  the  first  station  these  women  left,  and  I was  alone. 
Then  at  the  next  depot  a fat  little  man,  accompanied 
by  a lady,  opened  the  door  into  my  compartment. 

“Perceiving  me  he  made  big  eyes  at  me,  and  angrily 
told  his  wife  not  to  enter  until  I passed  out.  Then  I 
saw  the  mistake  I had  made  and  rose  to  leave  the 
carriage.  But  my  scoundrel  called  out  aloud  to  the 
guard,  before  a large  crowd: 

“ ‘Guard,  come  here,  there  is  a Cure  in  the  ladies’ 
compartment !’ 

“I  now  saw  that  this  admirable  philosopher  was 
bent  on  making  a little  scandal.  The  guard  arrived 
just  as  I stepped  out  on  the  platform,  and  he  very 
politely  asked  me  to  enter  another  carriage.  Already 
quite  agitated  I said  to  him: 

“ cM*sieu  le  Garde,  I am  a stranger,  and  I did  not 
know  this  compartment  was  reserved.’ 

“But  my  insolent  fellow,  not  yet  willing  to  leave 
me  alone,  said  roughly:  ‘You  ought  to  have  known 

it!’ 

“You  understand  that  I had  contained  myself  now 
for  a long  time.  I did  so  no  longer.  Now  before 
the  whole  crowd  I gave  him  something  to  think  over: 
“ ‘Sir,’  I said,  ‘I  want  to  tell  you  that  you  are  an 
insolent  fellow.  I can  read  in  your  face  and  speech 
that  there  are  many  things  which  you  ought  to  know. 


226 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1873 


You  ought  to  know  what  courtesy  is;  but  you  do  not. 
You  are  an  unmannerly  churl.  Moreover  in  calling 
me  a Cure,  you  are  also  mistaken:  for  I am  only  a 
poor  missionary  from  America. 

“ T have  not  the  honour  to  be  a Cure.  However, 
if  I knew  your  Bishop  I would  go  and  ask  him  to 
kindly  name  me  your  Cure  for  some  weeks — and  then, 
to  make  you  know,  if  that  were  possible,  I should 
scour  you  down,  body  and  mind!’ 

“Et  puis,  voila!  the  whistle  announced  the  depar- 
ture . . . and  Father  Lacombe  hastened  to 

find  another  compartment. 

But  his  indignation  was  appeased  by  the  outburst. 
The  man  who  had  defied  Rowand,  and  worsted  the 
sorcerer  White-head  was  not  likely  to  cower  before 
a noisy  little  Frenchman  of  unclean  mind.  While 
the  plain  western  speech  dealt  out  to  the  fellow  was 
probably  beneficial. 


II 


On  his  return  to  Montreal  that  autumn  Father 
Lacombe  met  Archbishop  Tache  there.  The  latter 
had  been  called  east  to  confer  with  the  Government 
concerning  the  amnesty  for  the  agitators  of  1869- 
1870.  More  particularly  they  dealt  with  the  likeli- 
hood of  Riel,  the  leader  of  the  Metis  government, 
contesting  the  vacant  seat  of  Provencher  for  the  Fed- 
eral house. 

Riel  and  many  of  his  friends  desired  this;  and  he 
could  easily  be  elected.  But  his  presence  in  the 
House  of  Commons  would  embarrass  the  Govern- 
ment and  endanger  the  peace  of  the  Dominion — at 
least,  of  Ontario,  which  had  become  the  storm-centre 
after  the  Metis  had  come  to  terms. 

Sir  John  Macdonald  and  Sir  Hector  Langevin 
met  the  Archbishop  in  the  former’s  office.  They  were 
naturally  anxious  that  the  Archbishop  should  make 
Riel  drop  out  of  the  electoral  contest.  They  knew 
he  could  prevail  on  him,  for  like  all  the  Metis  of  Mani- 
toba Riel  regarded  Alexandre  Tache  as  the  warmest 
friend  of  his  race  among  the  whites. 

The  Archbishop  informed  the  two  Ministers  de- 
cisively that  he  would  not  help  them,  because  he  had 
already  been  too  often  deceived  by  them  in  regard  to 

227 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1878 


ns 

the  amnesty.  He  would  agree  to  do  what  they  asked 
only  on  one  condition — that  they  now  definitely  grant 
the  amnesty  instead  of  putting  him  off  with  fine  prom- 
ises! 

Sir  John,  with  one  eye  on  Ontario’s  outburst  of 
mingled  loyalty  and  fanaticism — and  with  the  other 
on  the  coming  elections,  hesitated.  At  last  Tache 
told  him  he  would  do  nothing  in  the  matter — “ until 
Sir  John  had  given  him  a written  guarantee  of  what 
he  said  ” 

Was  ever  a more  suggestive  alternative  presented 
to  that  charming  old  sinner  of  diplomacy,  who  could 
indicate  a promise  with  one  eye  and  wink  it  off  with 
the  other?  This  was  a wall  Sir  John  could  not  get 
around:  and  he  did  not  want  to  leap  over  it.  . . . 
So  he  retired — somewhere  out  in  to  the  gray  corridors 
or  stately  chambers  of  the  Gothic  building. 

As  he  went,  we  can  imagine  him  smiling.  For, 
however  annoyed  or  nonplussed  for  the  moment,  he 
admired  this  Tache  as  one  great  and  generous  man 
can  always  appreciate  the  strength  and  ability  of  his 
peer. 

His  colleague  was  left  behind  to  make  more  prom- 
ises and  win  over  the  ruffled  ecclesiastic.  Langevin 
consequently  was  magnificent  in  his  assertions,  cap- 
ping them  with  the  statement  that  if  Sir  John  did 
not  take  the  steps  promised  that  day  toward  securing 
the  amnesty  he,  Langevin,  would  “resign  from  the 
Cabinet  and  take  Quebec  with  him.” 

“I  do  not  want  your  resignation:  I want  the  am- 


1874 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


229 


nesty!”  was  the  Archbishop’s  only  response.  And 
the  interview  ended  in  an  unsatisfactory  manner. 

The  Archbishop  and  Father  Lacombe  now  returned 
disheartened  to  St.  Boniface,  and  the  Macdonald 
Government  went  forward  to  its  overthrow. 

The  new  Government  reluctantly  inherited  the 
white  elephant  of  Riel’s  political  aspirations.  They 
also  approached  the  Archbishop : he  repeated  his 
claims  to  an  amnesty  for  the  Metis  agitators  as  prom- 
ised him  in  1870.  They  were  not — for  the  same  po- 
litical reason  as  the  Conservatives — prepared  to  grant 
this.  Sir  Aime  Dorion  now  appealed  to  Father  La- 
combe. The  latter,  who  was  in  Montreal  at  the  time, 
declined  to  interfere.  He  wrote  the  political  friend 
who  approached  him: 

“I  have  been  reflecting  more  and  more  upon  what  you  said 
to  me  yesterday,  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Dorion,  asking  me  to  in- 
tervene with  Riel  to  secure  his  pledge  not  to  present  himself 
at  the  next  general  elections — because  his  doing  so  would  do  a 
great  injury  to  the  new  government,  making  it  lose  twenty- 
five  constituencies  in  Upper  Canada ; and  that  on  the  other 
hand  his  presenting  himself  as  candidate  and  his  re-election 
for  the  County  of  Provencher  would  compromise  still  further 
his  cause  and  that  of  his  compatriots. 

“A  stranger  to  all  political  revolutions  and  occupying  my- 
self only  with  my  poor  Indians  of  the  Northwest  I could 
scarcely  anticipate  that  men  would  cast  their  eyes  upon  me 
for  this  mission.  ...  I have  concluded  that  the  wisest 
part  for  me  . . . would  be  to  abstain  from  interfering 

in  any  way  in  these  elections. 

“The  affair  would  seem  to  me  to  be  more  easily  arranged 


230 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1874 


by  some  one  of  yourselves  with  the  member  for  Provencher, 
and  I could  facilitate  the  interview  if  you  desire  it.  In  mak- 
ing this  advance  you  have  more  chance  of  succeeding  than 
I,  although  I fear  that  Riel  will  only  answer  you  as  he  did 
me  recently: 

“ ‘What  candidate  is  there  in  the  entire  Confederation  who, 
if  elected  by  acclamation  in  his  constituency  would  consent 
to  sacrifice  himself  to  forward  the  interests  of  his  colleagues? 
And  furthermore,  there  is  no  such  candidate  representing  a 
principle  of  nationality  as  I do.5  . . .” 

Riel  had  fled  to  Montreal  from  St.  Boniface  in 
1873,  when  the  warrant  for  his  arrest  was  issued. 
When  Father  Lacombe  met  him  there  in  1874  he  was 
in  a state  of  mental  derangement,  due  it  was  believed 
to  the  continual  fear  of  assassination  and  arrest  prey- 
ing on  his  mind  since  his  first  hurried  exit  from  St. 
Boniface  in  1872.  It  fell  to  the  lot  of  Father  La- 
combe as  the  Archbishop’s  representative  in  the  east 
to  visit  the  unfortunate  Metis  occasionally  at  Longue 
Pointe  Asylum  outside  Montreal,  where  he  was 
finally  kept  under  supervision. 

From  this  house  Father  Lacombe  transferred  him 
this  year  to  an  institution  at  Plattsburg,  N.  Y.,  where 
he  was  kept  under  some  restraint.  His  mind  con- 
tinued to  be  affected  at  intervals — always  upon  re- 
ligious and  political  questions.  One  night  in 
particular  he  astounded  the  community  by  running 
into  the  dining-room  scantily  clad  and  proclaiming 
himself  to  be  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Notwithstanding  his  eagerness  to  go  and  civilise 


1874 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


231 


the  Blackfeet  Father  Lacombe  permitted  himself  to 
become  absorbed  in  work  for  Archbishop  Tache. 
This  prelate  was  then  bending  his  energies  to  pro- 
moting colonization  of  the  west,  and  F ather  Lacombe 
seemed  the  one  man  equipped  to  be  his  lieutenant. 
His  knowledge  of  the  west  and  persuasive  person- 
ality both  fitted  him  for  his  new  duties. 

On  July  22,  1874,  Father  Lacombe  returned  from 
a colonization  campaign  to  Winnipeg  as  parish-priest 
of  St.  Mary’s  in  the  growing  frontier-town.  This 
was  to  be  his  headquarters  while  he  continued  his 
work  of  colonization.  A large  log-building  served 
as  a church  and  residence  for  himself  and  curate. 
Father  Baudin.  The  church  situated  on  the  second 
floor  was  only  reached  by  an  outside  stairway. 

The  building  had  been  erected  for  him,  and  for 
once  Father  Lacombe  stepped  into  a mission-house 
which  he  did  not  have  to  construct  or  chink.  This 
was  an  aid  to  bodily  comforts;  but  in  other  ways  the 
missionary  did  not  enjoy  his  early  ministry  at  Winni- 
peg. The  people  he  met  in  his  own  parish  or  out 
of  it  seemed  to  him  to  be  rarely  as  good  or  kind  as 
his  Christian  Indians;  while  to  sections  of  the  popu- 
lation he  found  his  priestly  garb  was  offensive. 

Of  these  he  used  to  ask  indignantly: 

“Why  shouldn’t  I wear  my  soutane  if  I want  to? 
We  have  done  much  to  civilize  this  country  wearing 
these  soutanes:  they  are  the  Oblates’  uniforms  as 
soldiers  of  Christ.  The  policemen,  the  trainmen  and 
the  Queen’s  soldiers  wear  their  uniforms — and  no  one 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1875-7 


objects.  Why  shouldn’t  I wear  mine  without  re- 
mark?” 

More  than  once  insulting,  jeering  remarks  were 
thrown  slyly  at  him  as  he  passed  through  the  streets; 
and  usually  then  a very  unpriestly  desire  came  to 
thrash  the  man  or  boy  who  flung  the  jeer  at  the  cruci- 
fix or  robe.  There  never  was  anything  of  the  turn- 
the-other-cheek  Christianity  about  Father  Lacombe. 

In  the  spring  of  1875  he  brought  out  a large  number 
of  excellent  settlers.  In  1876,  in  response  to  his 
efforts  in  Quebec  and  Massachusetts  fully  600 
French-Canadians  arrived  in  Manitoba.  New  par- 
ishes were  formed  at  numerous  points  on  the  prairies, 
and  Father  Lacombe — rejoicing  in  the  pleasure  this 
gave  his  invalid  Archbishop — applied  himself  to  col- 
onization with  zest,  as  though  he  really  enjoyed  it. 
In  reality  he  found  it  very  ungrateful  work. 

In  1877,  accompanied  by  Father  Fillion  and  two 
others,  he  continued  his  work.  This  year  400  families 
were  settled  in  Manitoba.  On  one  trip  west  Father 
Lacombe  accompanied  ten  families  from  Lowell. 
The  weather  was  depressing,  and  the  band  of  emi- 
grants discouraged.  On  their  arrival  he  left  them  in 
the  immigrants’  quarters  promising  to  go  with  them 
next  day  to  select  their  farms. 

The  next  day  was  radiantly  fine.  . . . “But 

such  mud!  The  oily  mud  of  Winnipeg  in  the  days 
before  there  were  pavements,”  Father  Lacombe 
shuddered  to  recall  it. 


1877 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


233 


The  newcomers  sat  outside  the  Hall  smoking  dole- 
fully. Inside  the  building  their  womenfolk  were 
complaining  steadily.  They  clamoured  to  go  home. 

“How  do  things  go  this  morning?”  Father  Lacombe 
asked  them. 

“Oh,  no  better.  It  is  a poor  country  you  bring  us 
to.  It  is  always  raining — raining;  and  then  mud! 
Look  at  that  mud!  We  will  go  back  east.” 

The  words  and  manner  alike  were  impertinent; 
and  when  they  would  not  listen  to  his  placating  re- 
marks all  Father  Lacombe’s  patience  fled,  and  he 
cried  to  them : 

“Then  go  back,  since  you  have  not  more  sense  than 
to  judge  a country  before  you  have  looked  into  it. 
If  there  is  deep  mud  here  it  is  only  because  the  soil 
is  fat — the  richest  in  America,  But  go  back  to  your 
Massachusetts  if  you  want  to,  where  the  soil  is  all 
pebbles,  and  work  again  in  the  factories!” 

His  outburst  acted  upon  their  flagging  ambitions 
like  a cold  douche.  They  decided  to  stay  in  Mani- 
toba, and  in  a few  years  they  had  no  reason  to  regret 
their  decision. 

“This  year  of  1877,”  Father  Lacombe  notes  in  his 
letters  “was  one  of  events  on  the  Red  River.  . . .” 

And  not  the  least  was  the  arrival  of  the  first  locomo- 
tive-engine brought  on  a decorated  barge  down  the 
river  by  the  steamer  Selkirk.  During  the  last  four 
miles  of  its  journey  the  whistles  of  the  Selkirk  tooted 
joyously:  the  bells  of  St.  Boniface  added  their  peals, 


234 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1877 


waking  the  echoes  of  vanished  days  along  the  historic 
river.  And  Winnipeg  turned  out  en  masse  to  wel- 
come the  harbinger  of  the  new  Era. 

Apart  from  the  ordinary  round  of  his  ministry  and 
his  eastern  work  this  period  of  Father  Lacombe’s  life 
was  marked  with  the  formation  of  several  notable 
friendships.  Friends  have  always  been  to  his  warm 
nature  the  j ewels  strung  along  the  rosary  of  his  years, 
and  these  of  the  seventies  made  no  exception. 

In  St.  Paul  he  met  Jim  Hill,  then  a man  in  the 
prime  of  life  and  already  marked  out  as  one  of  the 
coming  men  of  the  west.  Two  qualities  drew  F ather 
Lacombe’s  regard  to  him — the  excellence  of  the  man 
in  his  domestic  relations,  and  his  commanding  genius 
for  business — coldly  daring,  keen  and  unfailingly  ac- 
curate in  his  judgments. 

One  day  driving  down  the  winter  trail  to  St.  Paul 
Father  Lacombe  met  Donaid  Smith.  He  also  was 
in  his  prime,  a man  of  greater  abilities  and  more  stu- 
pendous plans  than  the  Red  River  yet  realized.  The 
priest,  who  had  always  a keen  scent  for  the  note  of 
distinction  in  a man’s  character,  soon  felt  himself 
drawn  to  a friendship  for  Smith  which  was  to  be  per- 
manent. 

Mr.  Smith  was  delicately  thoughtful  for  the  mis- 
sionary during  their  long  cold  drive.  As  habitual  he 
was  strikingly  pleasant  in  voice  and  manner:  where- 
fore Father  Lacombe  adds: 

“Rut  ah,  he  was  determined  behind  that  pleasant- 
ness. For  the  Company  he  was  the  ideal  man: 


1877 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


235 


smooth  but  so  firm!  He  fulfilled  always  their  motto 
— 'Pro  pelle  cutemf  Also  he  was  the  most  lucky  man 
I ever  knew — and  one  of  the  most  agreeable  to  ap- 
proach.” 

Another  interesting  man  of  the  early  days  of 
Canadian  rule  in  the  west  was  Luxton,  the  brilliant 
founder  of  the  Manitoba  Free  Press.  His  first  meet- 
ing with  Father  Lacombe  was  made  picturesque  by 
the  circumstances  and  the  strong  individuality  of  the 
two. 

This  is  the  story  of  their  meeting,  evoked  by  a 
question  concerning  an  old  letter. 

“When  I was  at  St.  Mary’s  of  Winnipeg,  you  un- 
derstand that  was  hard  work  for  me,  making  the 
foundation  of  a new  parish  with  a melange  of  all  kinds 
of  people — Ontariens , Metis,  Scotch,  Irish,  French 
and  some  Indians. 

“Well,  when  I was  there  in  Winnipeg  a newspaper 
was  organized — what  you  call  the  Free  Press , and 
Luxton,  that  was  the  man  at  the  head.  Fie  did  not 
care  much  about  us,  you  understand.  He  did  not 
know  anything  of  us  priests  nor  our  faith,  and  he  was 
prejudiced.  From  many  little  things  I see  that.  So 
I decide  to  go  and  talk  with  him.  . . 

F ather  Lacombe’s  old  eyes  twinkled  at  the  memory 
of  that  interview  and  of  Luxton’s  laughter  at  the 
audacious  Blackrobe. 

Like  everyone  else  to  whom  this  na'ive,  warm- 
hearted priest  cared  to  show  his  real  self  the  keen- 
witted newspaperman  was  captivated  with  his  amusing 


£36 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1877 


jumble  of  fun  and  diplomatic  wile.  Luxton  eventu- 
ally came  to  regard  Father  Lacombe  and  his  enter- 
taining friendship  as  one  of  the  mental  oases  of  his  new 
life!  The  regard  was  mutual. 

“I  admired  that  man/’  Father  Lacombe  recalls; 
“he  was  so  honest  and  sincere  and  upright.” 

Later  on  Luxton  felt  it  in  his  conscience  to  attack 
the  Canadian  Pacific  for  what  he  believed  to  be 
monopolistic  methods;  likewise  he  defended  the  Cath- 
olics’ claims  to  maintain  their  own  schools  upon  their 
own  taxes,  if  they  so  desired.  Both  courses  were  un- 
popular with  the  powers  and  the  first  ruined  him. 
So  when  Luxton’s  uncompromising  independence 
and  sincerity  had  brought  him  to  hard  days,  and  when 
many  former  friends  had  deserted  him  it  was  to  Father 
Lacombe  he  came  one  day;  and  that  warm  heart, 
touched  to  the  quick,  saw  him  over  the  darkest  days 
until  new  hope  came.  . . . 

Here  is  the  letter  that  had  lain  forgotten  while 
Father  Lacombe  talked — one  written  years  after 
Luxton  left  Winnipeg. 

“St.  Paul,  Minn.,  Sept.  £3,  ’99. 
“Rev.  Father  Lacombe,  Edmonton , N.  W.  T. 

“My  Rev.  and  dear  Father:  I have  seen  in  the  Win- 

nipeg papers  that  just  about  now  the  fifty-year  jubilee  of 
your  entering  upon  your  holy  work  is  being  celebrated. 
Though  I am  not  sure  that  it  is  not  somewhat  of  an  im- 
pertinence on  the  part  of  one  who  is  not  of  the  same  fold 
to  do  so — I cannot  forbear  tendering  my  congratulations 
on  the  occasion.  Your  humanising  work — not  to  mention 


1877 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


257 

the  strictly  Christian  part — has  been  such  that  it  cannot 
fail  to  command  the  admiration  of  all  good  men  who  know 
anything  of  what  it  has  been. 

“My  dear  and  venerable  Father,  permit  me  to  assure  you 
of  my  most  fervent  hope,  that  you  may  yet  be  spared 
many  more  years  of  valuable  life  to  be  more  or  less  an 
active  participant  in  good  work,  and  to  enjoy  seeing  the 
fruits  before  you  are  called  hence  to  whatever  reward  is  in 
store  for  the  most  holy  of  men — for  that  I know  is  yours. 

“Respectfully  and  affectionately, 

“Yours  truly, 

“W.  F.  Luxton.” 

The  restraint  over  the  warmth  of  this  letter  tells 
its  own  story  of  Luxton’s  attitude  toward  priests,  be- 
fore he  came  to  know  this  one.  When  he  wrote  the 
letter  he  was  manager  of  a paper  in  St.  Paul;  since 
then  he  has  passed  away,  while  his  octogenarian  friend 
remains. 

During  Father  Lacombe’s  incumbency  of  St. 
Mary’s  Church  a young  Metis  named  Angus  Morri- 
son was  committed  to  gaol  on  a charge  of  murder. 

As  chaplain  of  the  Penitentiary  Father  Lacombe 
one  day  met  his  half-breed  there — all  half-breeds 
were  his,  it  will  be  noted.  Angus  was  a good-looking 
youth  of  twenty  who  always  protested  his  innocence 
of  murdering  a Scotch  settler  for  robbery.  Many 
believed  him  innocent,  and  general  sympathy  was  felt 
for  him. 

During  his  imprisonment  Father  Lacombe  was  his 
spiritual  adviser.  When  he  was  finally  sentenced  to 


238 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1877 


be  hanged  F ather  Lacombe  circulated  a petition  pray- 
ing the  authorities  to  commute  the  sentence.  Eventu- 
ally an  imposing  list  of  names  went  down  to  Ottawa, 
but  it  was  decided  that  the  sentence  should  be  carried 
out. 

To  Father  Lacombe’s  distress,  when  he  conveyed 
this  news  to  the  prisoner,  the  lad  fainted.  Again 
when  Angus  took  leave  of  his  widowed  mother  the 
scene  was  so  pitiful  that  Father  Lacombe  felt  he  had 
known  nothing  of  human  grief  before. 

This  is  his  story  of  Angus  in  part: 

“Hah!  I prepared  him  then  to  be  strong  and  cour- 
ageous, but  I told  the  Bishop  I would  not  consent  to 
go  to  the  hanging.  . . . Ah,  I could  not  do  that. 

I made  a plan— in  a Metis  parish  nearby  they  had 
wanted  me  for  many  weeks  to  preach  a retreat. 
This  was  my  chance.  . . . ‘Now,’  I said  to  the 

Bishop,  T am  going.’ 

“ ‘But  that  will  take  you  away  some  days,’  he  said: 
‘You  forget  your  Angus.’ 

“I  beg  him  then  to  let  me  go  away:  some  stronger 
priest  would  go  with  Angus. 

“ ‘No,’  the  Bishop  insist  with  me,  ‘you  prepared 
him;  he  loves  you  now  like  a father.  If  you  go  away 
he  will  be  discouraged.  This  is  your  work  for  him. 

. . . It  is  your  duty  as  a priest.’ 

“Then  I go  home  and  say  to  myself : ‘No,  I cannot; 
it  will  kill  me.’  . . . Some  days  I was  thinking 

that,  but  at  last  one  day  at  Mass  I feel  to  myself  I 
can  go  now,  since  it  is  my  duty.  . . . But  again 


1877 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


289 


when  I think  of  it — it  was  like  killing  myself.  Al- 
ways I felt  that  on  my  mind. 

“That  night  before  the  execution  I stayed  all  night 
in  his  cell  with  Angus.  He  was  a frightened  lad,  my 
Angus — veiy  nervous  and  affectionate.  I told  the 
gaoler  he  must  not  put  the  irons  on  that  night:  I 
would  be  responsible.  He  did  as  I said. 

“After  we  said  the  prayers  Angus  slept  all  night, 
but  I could  not  close  my  eyes.  I just  watch  that  poor 
lad  and  pray  for  him.  ...  At  four  o’clock  I 
roused  him. 

“When  he  wake  to  that  day  and  know  it — he  cried ; 
my  poor  Angus!  And  I let  him  cry  well  at  first. 
Then  I help  him  dress.  Outside  in  the  hall  before 
his  cell  I offered  the  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass,  and  gave 
him  communion.  . . . He  would  not  take  any 

breakfast. 

“That  was  a fine  day — cold  but  fine,  and  the  scaf- 
fold was  built  outside  the  window  on  the  second  story. 
When  we  came  to  that  window  I felt  I was  going  to 
faint  myself,  because  going  through  the  corridor  I 
saw  the  hangman  coming  all  in  black. 

“Outside,  it  seemed  all  the  people  of  Winnipeg 
were  there:  that  was  one  of  the  first  hangings  in  the 
town. 

“I  was  afraid  for  Angus,  and  I say: 

“ 'My  boy,  show  yourself  a brave  man  to  those 
white  peoples — ’ 

“They  told  the  prisoner  to  speak,  but  he  could  not. 
I spoke  for  him,  just  to  say  that  Angus  was  dying 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1877 


240 

all  right  with  his  God,  and  he  asked  pardon  from  any 
one  he  had  ever  hurt. 

“Now — ah,  God  came  upon  me,  and  my  weakness 
changed.  No  more  nervous — I was  all  master  of  my- 
self! . . . 

“Over  us  there  was  a big  black  flag,  and  down  be- 
low I knew  there  was  a coffin  . . . and  across 

the  river  the  bells  of  St.  Boniface  were  tolling. 

“It  was  nine  o’clock — the  hour. 

“Angus  knelt,  and  I pronounced  over  him  a last 
absolution.  . . . Ah-h!  . . .” 

The  old  priest’s  head  fell  forward  in  silence,  and  as 
I waited  I heard  echoes  of  Eternity.  . . . 

“The  body  of  my  Angus  was  brought  to  St.  Boni- 
face that  day — and  the  Bishop  Tache  made  one  of  his 
finest  sermons  over  that  poor  boy.  That  text  he  took 
from  the  Dies  Irae;  you  know  that  grand  sentiment 
in  it.1  . . . f Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus V — 'Shall 

such  love  meet  no  return?’ 

1 The  reference  here  is  to  one  verse  of  the  Dies  Irae , the  superb 
requiem  hymn  of  the  Catholic  Church  composed  many  centuries  ago. 
Its  rhythm  has  the  swing  of  a tolling  bell;  chanted,  it  is  one  of  the 
most  affecting  and  beautiful  things  in  the  world  of  music.  The  verse 
from  which  the  text  was  taken  is  in  full: — 

Quarens  me  sedisti  lassus, 

Redemisti  crucem  passus: 

Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus? 

Seeking  me  Thou  sat’st  forlorn, 

Saved  me  on  the  tree  of  scorn: 

Shall  such  love  meet  no  return? 


An  Indian  Sun  Dance,  1877 


Ill 


Even  in  the  pampered  ways  of  civilization  Father 
Lacombe  lost  none  of  the  vitality  which  had  so  dis- 
tinguished him  on  the  plains.  One  day  in  the 
spring  the  small  riverboat  Swallow , on  which  he  was 
returning  from  Selkirk  mission,  suddenly  careened 
off  Point  Douglas  in  a bitter  wind  and  snowstorm. 
All  hastened  to  the  small  boats.  Father  Lacombe 
missed  his  footing  and  fell  into  the  river. 

As  he  was  about  to  sink  a second  time  a man 
caught  him  by  the  hair  and  pulled  him  into  the  boat. 
Numbed  and  icy  after  a long  walk  on  reaching  land 
he  found  shelter  in  a Metis  cottage,  while  a messen- 
ger went  to  St.  Boniface  for  the  Archbishop’s  car- 
riage. 

“I  went  to  bed  about  five  o’clock  that  day  maybe; 
next  day  I rise  about  seven,  all  right.  That  was 
nothing — a dip  in  the  river!” 

But  while  Father  Lacombe  was  spending  himself 
in  moulding  into  shape  the  elements  of  his  town-par- 
ish and  in  colonisation  work — events  were  moving 
marvellously  on  the  plains  among  his  own  people. 

The  Government  of  Ottawa,  recognizing  that  a 
new  period  of  western  development  was  at  hand, 
mobolized  and  despatched  to  the  Northwest — in 
1874 — a semi -military  force  of  Mounted  Police. 

241 


24,2 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1877 


The  intention  was  to  pave  the  way  for  new  forms  of 
government,  meanwhile  suppressing  cattle-stealing 
and  the  illicit  sale  of  liquor  on  the  Montana  border. 

Having  profited  by  the  lesson  of  the  Red  River 
agitation  the  Government  also  sent  commissioners 
into  the  country  to  deal  with  the  Indian  tribes  before 
the  change  came  about.  Ry  these  treaties  the  In- 
dians agreed  to  live  within  fixed  limits  of  territory 
called  reserves,  and  in  lieu  of  certain  annual  pay- 
ments and  rations  they  yielded  all  claim  to  the  wide 
hunting-grounds  of  their  fathers. 

It  was  at  Treaty  No.  6,  near  Fort  Pitt,  that  Father 
Lacombe’s  Cree  friends  made  their  surrender. 
Sweet-Grass  was  still  Head-Chief,  and  that  day  he 
spoke  worthily  for  his  people,  urging  them  to  come 
peacefully  into  treaty-relations  and  learn  to  farm  like 
white  men.  The  Treaty  stipulated  not  only  money 
payments  but  the  provision  of  schools  on  reserves  and 
practical  instruction  in  farming. 

In  1877  Governor  Laird  brought  the  Blackfeet 
into  treaty.  Father  Lacombe  was  invited  by  the 
Federal  Government  to  be  present  as  counsellor  and 
friend  of  these  Indians,  in  the  same  capacity  Bishop 
Grandin  had  attended  the  Cree  treaty-ceremonies. 
He  left  Ottawa  in  August  intending  to  travel  by  St. 
Paul  and  Fort  Benton  to  Macleod,  the  new  Police 
post  in  the  Blackfoot  country. 

Unfortunately  he  fell  ill  at  St.  Paul  and  after  a 
severe  sickness  of  weeks  was  obliged  to  return  to  St. 
Boniface.  The  treaty-commissioner  meanwhile  se- 


1877 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


243 


cured  as  his  substitute  his  former  assistant,  Father 
Scollen. 

The  preliminaries  of  the  Indian  problem  being  dis- 
posed of  and  the  Indians  established  on  their  reserves 
the  Government  was  reprehensibly  slow  in  carrying 
out  its  whole  programme.  They  were  to  teach  the 
elders  to  farm  and  the  children  to  read:  they  lagged 
in  doing  both. 

The  buffalo,  steadily  decreasing  in  numbers  for 
some  years,  suddenly  disappeared. 

Nothing  could  have  more  effectively  broken  the 
links  of  the  Past  for  the  Indian.  The  buffalo  had 
been  their  living  manna.  Emerging  each  spring 
from  the  earth,  as  they  once  believed,  the  Indians 
looked  on  the  buffalo  as  a manifestation  of  the  Great 
Spirit’s  care  for  his  people. 

With  the  coming  of  the  whites  this  was  gone! 

They  did  not  stop  to  reason  why;  or  to  what  ex- 
tent their  reckless  slaughter  was  accountable.  They 
preferred  to  blame  the  extermination  of  the  buffalo 
upon  the  Sioux  and  American  trader  with  his  repeat- 
ing-rifles. 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1878-1879  the  Indians’  best 
friend  disappeared  entirely,  and  the  Hunger-Moon 
of  the  Blackfeet  did  not  last  for  twenty-eight  days 
that  year,  but  for  months. 

The  Crees,  more  fortunate  in  their  northern  hunt- 
ing-grounds, had  resource  in  other  game  and  in  goods 
exchanged  for  furs  at  the  Company’s  posts.  But  the 
Blackfeet  did  not  live  in  a fur-country.  As  in  John 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1877 


244 

Rowand’s  day  the  buffalo  had  been  their  all.  They 
were  now  in  a most  desperate  plight. 

Twenty  years  before  Father  Lacombe  had  begun 
to  Christianize  the  Rlackfeet,  and  it  was  ten  years 
since  he  had  planned  to  give  himself  entirely  to  civ- 
ilising them.  In  all  this  time  he  had  lost  none  of  his 
original  interest  in  these  Indians,  and  it  was  with 
poignant  grief  that  he  heard  of  their  present  condi- 
tion through  letters  from  Father  Scollen. 

He  had  known  them  in  their  pride — kings  of  the 
open  plain  in  their  barbaric  power — brave  and  proud, 
honourable  and  hospitable;  dwellers  in  frail  skin- 
lodges  yet  Lords  of  all  the  outdoor  world.  Now  he 
heard  of  them  as  miserable  dependents  upon  the  char- 
ity of  the  Mounted  Police  and  the  missionaries.  Ow- 
ing to  the  difficulties  of  transportation  supplies  could 
not  be  brought  in  readily.  Moreover  in  spite  of  the 
best  efforts  of  those  in  the  country  it  was  difficult  to 
bring  Ottawa  to  understand  the  acute  distress  that 
prevailed. 

Father  Scollen  in  his  voluminous  letters  related 
that  the  Indians  were  devouring  their  dogs  and  had 
even  eaten  the  carcasses  of  poisoned  wolves  and  soup 
made  of  old  buffalo  bones  gathered  on  the  prairies. 
A few  of  the  aged  died  of  starvation  and  he  had  seen 
men  leaving  their  lodges  because  they  could  not  pro- 
vide food  for  children  wailing  with  hunger. 

They  had  begged  all  they  could  from  the  few 
whites  in  the  settlements.  Now  he  feared  they 
would  be  driven  to  steal  the  range-cattle. 


1879 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


245 


In  a letter  by  the  same  writer  forwarded  to  Ot- 
tawa by  Major  Irvine,  N.  W.  M.  P.,  the  harrowing 
condition  of.  the  Indians  is  strongly  set  forth.  He 
demands  farming  implements  and  seed  for  the  Pie- 
gans,  as  promised  at  their  Treaty  two  years  earlier. 
He  concludes  with  the  hope  that  if  not  palatable  his 
letter  may  at  least  be  useful — “for  I can  assure  you  I 
have  written  it  with  all  frankness.”  Which  state- 
ment no  one  who  has  read  the  letter  will  doubt! 

Jean  L’Heureux,  an  interesting  character  who  had 
applied,  but  was  rejected  by  Father  Lacombe,  as  a 
catechist  at  Lac  Ste.  Anne  in  the  fifties,  wrote  an 
appeal  from  the  camp  of  Chief  Natous.  He  im- 
plored the  Princess  Louise  at  Ottawa,  as  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  Great  Mother,  to  take  pity  on  the  starving 
women  and  children. 

Bishop  Grandin  in  one  letter  to  Father  Lacombe 
— to  whom  he  is  always  prompted  to  turn  when  in 
distress — sums  up  the  tale  of  misery  among  the 
northern  tribes : 

44  . To-day  again  we  have  learned  very  sad  news 

of  these  poor  inhabitants  of  the  plains.  The  Metis  would 
have  been  able  to  keep  off  starvation  with  the  provisions 
they  laid  by  last  autumn,  but  the  starving  Crees  threw  them- 
selves on  their  mercy.  The  latter  were  reduced  to  eating 
their  dogs  and  horses:  dying  with  hunger,  to  eat  the  car- 
casses of  poisoned  wolves  and  dogs. 

44  ...  At  St.  Albert,  too,  we  have  had  reason  to 

feel  want  to  some  degree.  A band  of  Assinaboines  passed  a 
part  of  the  winter  camped  around  us.  Their  hunt  had  not 


24  6 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1879 


been  successful  and  we  did  what  we  could  to  give  them  aid. 
Without  the  Company,  without  our  missions  and  others, 
many  would  have  died  of  hunger.  . . . Our  dear  Father 

Leduc,  who  hoped  he  had  provisions  ahead  for  two  years, 
fears  we  will  be  short  of  food  before  the  spring  is  over.” 

There  could  not  have  been  more  painful  news  for 
Father  Lacombe  than  this,  repeated  in  letter  after 
letter  from  his  confreres.  It  was  the  more  distress- 
ing that  he  had  no  means  with  which  to  send  relief; 
and  he  could  almost  reproach  himself  that  he  was 
living  in  some  degree  of  comfort  while  they  suffered. 

Acting  on  the  information  contained  in  his  letters 
he  demanded  from  Ottawa  that  they  hasten  relief 
to  the  west.  In  the  case  of  human  suffering  his  tem- 
perament never  would  brook  the  delays  of  red  tape. 

As  a consequence  of  the  many  representations 
from  the  northwest  relief  was  hurried  to  the  Indians 
in  the  spring  of  1879. 

On  June  2 Father  Lacombe  sailed  for  Europe. 
He  had  been  delegated  to  represent  Archbishop 
Tache  at  the  General  Chapter  of  their  Order  assem- 
bling in  France.  Visiting  Rome,  he  presented  the 
Pope  with  a copy  of  his  Cree-French  dictionary. 

The  happiness  he  experienced  in  meeting  for  the 
first  time  the  Commander-in-Chief  of  their  scattered 
missionary  forces  reveals  itself  joyously  in  letters  to 
the  Archbishop.  The  latter  affectionately  assures 
him  that  he  is  glad  his  own  illness  has  given  this  op- 
portunity to  his  friend. 


1880 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


247 


The  glories  of  Rome’s  art  and  architecture  found 
a more  appreciative  spectator  in  him  than  the  splen- 
dours he  looked  on  during  his  first  visit  to  Europe. 
He  confesses  he  is  again  civilise . 

But  one  day  in  a Roman  crowd  he  finds  that  a 
purse  with  one  hundred  and  thirty  francs  has  been 
abstracted  from  the  wide  pocket  of  his  soutane,  and 
he  satirically  notes  that  he  is  not  in  the  west — where 
men  are  not  sufficiently  civilised  to  steal! 

Still  another  day  the  Saskatchewan  is  vividly  re- 
called to  him:  up  on  the  great  cupola  of  St.  Peter’s, 
enjoying  a superb  view  of  the  city  built  on  the  Seven 
Hills,  he  meets  two  priests  from  Louisiana  and  from 
them  hears  of  Father  Frain.  This  was  the  delicate 
young  ecclesiastic  whom  twenty  years  before  he 
brought  on  a dog-sleigh  to  Fort  Edmonton  to  con- 
sult Dr.  Hector. 

Now  the  same  Pere  Frain  is  somewhat  of  a per- 
sonage in  his  southern  home — 

“Monsignor  Frain!” — the  old  Indian  missionary 
notes  expressively  in  his  diary.  His  friends  are  all 
becoming  Bishops  or  Monsignori ; he  remains  only  the 
old  Father  Lacombe.  But  what  of  that,  since  he  is 
also  to  his  Indians  Arsous-kitsi-rarpi — the  Man-of- 
the-Good-Heart  ? 

In  Paris  on  his  return  he  again  visits  the  old  pub- 
lishing-house of  Letaille  and  arranges  for  the  publi- 
cation of  a new  illustrated  catechism  for  the  Crees. 
It  is  a fine  edition,  of  which  Father  Lestanc  receiving 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1880 


848 

a first  copy  in  his  remote  mission  exclaims— “Truly 
you  are  of  the  Age  of  Progress !” 

Father  Lacombe,  while  in  Montreal  on  his  return 
early  in  1880,  arranged  a loan  of  $20,000  for  the  Col- 
lege being  built  by  the  Archbishop  of  St.  Boniface. 
In  the  same  year  constructon  began  upon  a stone 
church  for  his  parish  of  St.  Mary’s  and  upon  a girls’ 
academy  adequate  for  the  needs  of  the  growing  pop- 
ultion. 

From  these  facts  it  is  obvious  that  Winnipeg  was 
rapidly  growing  too  commonplace  and  civilized  for 
Father  Lacombe  to  be  quite  happy  in  it.  Writing 
to  a friend  on  January  8th,  he  says: 

“Here,  my  dear  Father,  I continue  to  do  penance  by  re- 
maining in  the  midst  of  modern  civilization.  More  than 
ever  I long  for  the  Indian  missions.  . . 

But  even  as  the  monotony  of  his  parish-work  trou- 
bled his  peace  of  mind  a new  field  was  opening  for 
him. 

Destiny  was  afoot  on  the  plains,  knocking  at  the 
great  gates  of  the  west.  The  steel  head  of  the  new 
trans-continental  was  pushing  its  way  out  to  the 
prairies,  bringing  in  its  wake  all  the  seeds  of  develop- 
ment the  west  was  to  know  in  the  next  two  decades. 

Fully  one-third  of  the  workingmen  engaged  on 
the  construction-work  were  recruited  from  the  Mani- 
toba settlements  of  French-Canadians.  There  were 
other  Catholics  among  the  workmen  and  staff,  and 
the  Archbishop  occasionally  sent  a priest  out  to  visit 


1880 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


249 


them.  This  man  had  reported  the  navvies  in  a sad 
condition  through  the  bad  influence  of  whiskey-ped- 
dlers, “bad-men”  and  other  demoralizing  agencies 
that  follow  close  upon  railway  construction. 

At  the  request  of  several  of  the  contractors  the 
Archbishop  arranged  they  should  have  a permanent 
chaplain.  His  judgment  promptly  selected  Father 
Lacombe  as  the  one  man  for  the  service.  A man  who 
had  always  made  his  way  with  the  plains-nomads 
was  not  likely  to  be  discouraged  or  repelled  by  the 
unlovely  conditions  of  railway-camps. 

On  November  2,  1880,  with  Sir  Charles  Tupper 
as  a fellow-traveller,  Father  Lacombe  went  out  from 
Winnipeg  to  his  new  mission.  He  travelled  by  wag- 
on-road  and  construction-train  to  Rat  Portage — then 
the  terminus  of  the  road.  Here,  cordially  welcomed 
by  the  contractors,  he  established  himself  in  an  un- 
finished building,  with  an  old  box-car  for  a tempo- 
rary chapel. 

His  first  impression  of  navvies  pertained  to  the 
extent  of  their  blasphemy — vile  utterances  thrown 
about  as  lightly  as  a man  calls  for  pick  or  axe.  To 
him,  at  once  reverent  and  aggressive,  this  was  a toc- 
sin. His  rebukes  and  appeals  were  as  impassioned 
as  their  utterances  were  hardened  and  criminal.  He 
made  indeed  of  his  own  faith  and  love  and  reverence 
whips  to  drive  the  fear  of  the  Lord  into  their  neg- 
lected souls. 

It  was  after  one  such  castigation  that  he  made  this 
entry  in  his  diary: 


$50 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1880 


“It  seems  to  me  what  I have  said  is  of  a nature  to  bring 
reflection  to  these  terrible  blasphemers,  who  have  a vile  lan- 
guage all  their  own — with  a dictionary  and  grammar  which 
belongs  to  no  one  but  themselves.  This  habit  of  theirs — is 
diabolical !,? 

He  had  entered  upon  a wandering  pastorate  in 
which  he  would  find  the  moral  condition  of  the 
whites  inferior  to  that  of  the  pagan  Crees.  In  later 
years,  with  the  memory  of  this  period  softened  by 
Time,  he  was  unwilling  to  say  that  these  construc- 
tion-gangs were  exceedingly  disorderly.  He  would 
recall  little  of  them  except  their  unvarying  kindness 
and  respect  for  himself.  But  a truer  picture  of  con- 
ditions is  had  from  his  diary,  which  is  made  up  of 
brief,  vigorous  notes. 

He  actually  found  the  camps  reeking  with  blas- 
phemy; hideous  on  occasions  with  the  drinking  of 
smuggled  liquor  and  with  immorality.  This  was  true, 
although  accidents  were  numerous,  and  the  reckless 
navvies  going  out  could  never  tell  who  would  next  be 
brought  in  dying. 


IV 


Father  Lacombe  could  not  remain  indifferent  in 
the  face  of  such  disorder.  He  promptly  threw  him- 
self into  the  fight;  his  strong  heart  with  its  powers 
of  sympathy  and  scorn;  his  faith  and  authority — 
against  the  dare-devil  lusts  of  the  navvies.  He 
fought  with  such  good  effect  that  in  time  most  of  the 
contractors,  and  the  President  of  the  Canadian  Pa- 
cific, personally  expressed  their  appreciation  of  his 
remarkable  services. 

But  the  contest  was  not  waged  with  a light  heart. 
. . . “Que  c’est  triste  de  voir  Vetat  des  choses 

icir  he  concludes  one  pathetic  entry  in  his  diary. 

A fortnight  after  his  arrival  a big  dance  was  given 
in  the  village — “a  disorderly  and  scandalous  ball,” 
he  terms  it.  Through  the  greater  part  of  the  night 
he  lay  awake  compelled  to  listen  to  the  shouts  and  ri- 
baldry of  drunken  men  and  women. 

He  finally  went  himself  to  the  house  where  these 
dances  were  given  each  week,  and  where  all  the  week 
moral  disorder  prevailed.  He  implored  the  woman 
who  owned  the  establishment  to  change  her  life — to 
cease  her  work  of  debasing  men  through  liquor  and 
vice,  fattening  her  purse  upon  their  degradation. 

Woman  can  fall  so  low  that  this  harridon  answered 
the  earnest  priest  with  insults  and  jeers.  He  turned 

251 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1880 


252 

from  the  door  in  disgust  and  heartbreak — for  the 
first  time  in  his  missionary  career  thoroughly  baffled. 

The  powers  of  evil  impressed  him  as  overwhelm- 
ing. Father  Lacombe  could  now  understand  why 
the  contractors  had  so  urged  the  Archbishop  to  send 
them  a priest  to  clean  up  the  Augean  stables  of  vice 
in  which  their  men  wallowed. 

The  sense  of  near-Despair  that  possessed  him  after 
this  first  conflict  with  the  navvies’  evil-genius  endured 
for  a time.  But  other  days  were  coming  in  which 
the  Vampire  of  the  frontier  was  to  see  her  grip  on 
men’s  souls  somewhat  weaken  as  the  indefatigable 
little  missionary  drew  them  to  himself,  and  whipped 
their  rude  souls  into  a fresh  realization  of  fife  as 
Life. 

Father  Lacombe  had  recourse  to  prayer.  “My 
God,  have  pity  on  this  little  village  where  so  many 
crimes  are  committed  every  day!”  was  the  entry  he 
made  one  night  in  his  diary  after  the  day’s  work  was 
done.  Again  some  days  later  he  recorded: 

“I  am  convinced  more  and  more  that  the  sins  committed 
in  this  little  corner  of  the  world  are  enormous.  Since  I can- 
not stop  all  the  evil,  at  least  I have  the  power  to  pray  for 
these  sinners  and  arrest  the  divine  anger.” 

This  statement  was  made  in  no  arrogance  of  soul, 
but  in  the  absolute  belief  that  God  would  not  refuse 
a prayer  for  grace. 

From  camp  to  camp  he  went  blessing,  rebuking, 
exhorting,  cajoling.  Gradually  his  first  shock  at 


1880 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


253 


conditions  modified,  as  he  saw  more  clearly  into  the 
hearts  of  the  men  who  toiled  in  this 

“ Land  of  the  wilful  Gospel, 

Thou  worst  and  thou  best; 

Tall  Adam  of  lands,  new-made 
Of  the  dust  of  the  West.” 

The  Archbishop  had  appointed  him  a chaplain:  his 
own  good  nature  made  him  a Bureau  of  accommoda- 
tion: as  his  slim  diary  gives  evidence.  It  is  dotted 
with  commissions  entrusted  by  the  labourers — all 
duly  crossed  out  in  token  of  fulfilment. 

One  wants  a dictionary;  another  a prayer-book; 
others  send  subscriptions  to  newspapers.  One 
Hudon  wants  the  Father  to  look  up  a house  in  Win- 
nipeg for  his  family;  another,  Berube,  asks  him  to 
deposit  $250  in  the  bank.  Amounts  from  $40  to 
$100  are  sent  by  Father  Lacombe  home  to  the  fam- 
ilies in  Manitoba  and  Quebec.  And  all  these  com- 
missions were  scrupulously  fulfilled. 

“Received  from of  ....  in  Quebec,  $....,  to 

deposit  in  the  Bank  of ” 

so  the  entries  frequently  run.  Or  again — 

“A sends  $.  . . . to  his  father, of 

St. , in  the  diocese  of ; write  to  his  mother.” 

Another  entry  marks  his  promise  to  look  into  the 
cabane  of  John  Ward  left  untenanted  at  Whitefish, 
and  to  report  conditions  to  the  said  John.  Still  fur- 


254 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1880 


ther  memoranda  remind  him  to  procure  entertaining 
reading-matter  for  such  a camp  and  medicines  for 
such  another.  Nothing  is  too  small  to  note  or  do,  if 
it  contributes  to  the  welfare  of  his  men — his  big  heart 
having  speedily  adopted  them  as  his  own. 

He  brought  their  letters  in  to  them  when  possible, 
and  carried  their  answers  away  to  post.  He  read 
and  wrote  for  those  who  could  do  neither — and  in  this 
way  frequently  obtained  a strong  hold  over  the 
younger  men  inclined  to  yield  to  the  worst  influences 
of  life. 

Once  after  reading  a letter  for  a lad  from  his 
sweetheart,  the  young  man  dictated  a pleasant  re- 
sponse not  without  such  vows  of  constancy  and  affec- 
tion as  the  heart  of  the  maiden  in  Quebec  was 
doubtless  hungering  to  receive.  This  done,  Father 
Lacombe  cast  a knowing  eye  on  the  young  man  and 
informed  him  that  he  was  now  going  to  add  a few 
facts  about  the  lad’s  real  life. 

He  only  agreed  to  the  young  fellow’s  prayer  to 
refrain — on  condition  that  his  gay  young  compatriot 
make  it  possible  for  him  to  send  a good  report  next 
time.  The  bargain  was  made  and  the  lad  lived  up 
to  it. 

“More  than  once,”  said  Father  Lacombe  years 
later  with  a tender  smile  for  the  gar^ons  and  their 
perplexities.  “I  would  say  to  those  gardens — Tf 
your  co.nduct  here  is  not  that  of  good  Christians, 
you  will  see.  I will  write  and  tell  Her . 

And  then  it’s  all  finish  with  you!’ 


1881 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


255 


“Ha-a-ah!  how  they  beg  me  not  to  do  that — what 
fine  promise  they  make  always  if  I do  not!  I was 
teasing  them,  of  course,  but  they  do  not  know  that 
for  sure.  They  did  not  know  how  much  I mean. 
So  they  try  to  be  better — and  that  was  all  what  I 
want !” 

The  routine  of  his  ministry  was  similar  in  each 
camp.  At  dusk  when  the  men  came  in  from  work 
to  the  lights  and  rude  cheer  of  the  log  eating-house 
they  would  find  this  sturdy  little  man  in  the  black 
cassock  waiting  for  them.  He  was  welcomed  and 
treated  reverently  by  all  the  men.  To  the  French- 
Canadians  his  coming  was  that  of  a beloved  and  be- 
nevolent relative. 

A hearty  supper  soon  disappeared  before  the  at- 
tack of  the  men  upon  the  rough  fare  in  tin  bowls  and 
plates  on  rough-board  tables.  Then  over  their  pipes 
as  they  lounged  against  their  bunks  there  was  the 
blessed  interchange  of  news  and  comment  which 
makes  the  visit  of  an  outsider  to  a woodland  camp 
memorable. 

After  the  pipe  those  who  would  attend  the  even- 
ing-service remained  in  the  cook-house,  while  hymns 
were  sung  and  Father  Lacombe  in  his  picturesque 
manner  talked  to  them  in  both  languages.  Then 
confessions  were  heard — a blanket  across  a corner 
forming  a confessional-screen — and  it  was  rarely  be- 
fore midnight  that  the  tired  missionary  could  roll 
himself  up  in  his  blanket  and  find  rest  in  one  of  the 
bunks. 


256 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1882 


Before  the  foreman’s  stentorian  reveille  had  tor- 
tured the  ears  of  the  slumbering  navvies  the  priest 
was  afoot  again  preparing  an  improvised  altar  for 
the  divine  Sacrifice,  and  at  five  the  men  trooped  in 
clumsily  but  devoutly  to  the  service  and  communion. 
By  seven  the  Mass  was  over,  the  men  had  break- 
fasted and  were  ready  for  duty. 

As  they  swung  off  to  their  work  Father  Lacombe 
was  wont  to  stand  in  the  doorway  and  bid  God-speed 
to  these  companies  of  Labour’s  world-army,  as  they 
moved  off  into  the  morning  mists. 

Sometimes  the  railway-chaplain  travelled  between 
camps  in  a hand-car,  a chilly  means  of  transport  in 
winter.  On  February  10,  1881,  he  went  on  such  a 
trip,  and  his  note-book  tells  its  own  story: 

“11 — Sick;  like  pleurisy.  I am  paid  for  under- 
taking this  trip.” 

“12 — I continue  to  suffer.” 

The  three  following  days  are  summed  up  in  the 
entry — “I  suffer  all  day.” 

“16 — My  God,  I offer  you  my  sufferings.” 

He  is  roused  from  thought  of  self,  however,  on  the 
following  day  by  a horrible  accident  in  which  three 
men  were  killed  and  four  injured  by  an  explosion. 
He  went  out  to  these  at  night  as  soon  as  the  word 
came. 

That  year  his  Lenten  visits  to  the  railway-camps 
covered  all  the  territory  between  Port  Arthur  and 
Winnipeg.  In  May  he  began  the  erection  of  a 
church  at  Rat  Portage.  Then  he  travelled  hun- 


1888 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


257 


dreds  of  miles  by  canoe  with  an  Indian  guide  visiting 
the  Indian  camps  in  the  back-country. 

This  summer — 1881 — the  Marquis  of  Lome  was 
welcomed  to  the  Portage  with  all  the  pomp  the  wood- 
land depot  could  muster. 

The  Governor- General,  travelling  by  canoe  from 
Thunder  Bay,  was  met  down  stream  by  a flotilla  of 
Saulteau  canoes  which  as  they  advanced  moved  in 
and  out  in  a bewildering  series  of  manoeuvres. 
Swaying  to  the  paddles  the  canoemen  sang  the  old 
melodies  of  the  voyageur  days. 

The  maze  of  canoes  steadily  approached  the  envoy 
of  the  Great  White  Mother:  in  the  van  rode  Father 
Lacombe  glad  to  participate  again  in  an  Indian  cer- 
emonial. 

From  the  prow  of  his  canoe  fluttered  a Red  Cross 
flag — the  banner  he  had  waved  in  triumph  to  the 
Sarcee  camp  when  he  restored  the  captive  Margue- 
rite ; the  Red  Cross  he  had  held  up  as  a sign  of  truce 
to  the  warring  Crees  on  the  morning  of  the  memor- 
able battle. 

Here  where  Progress  was  taking  its  first  sinuous 
hold  upon  the  land  of  the  vanished  voyageurs — re- 
mote from  his  beloved  plains  and  painted  nomads — 
the  Red  Cross  had  reappeared.  It  dipped  in  salute 
to  His  Excellency,  who  stopped  to  talk  a while  with 
the  bronzed  eagle-eyed  missionary  in  the  shabby 
black  cassock.  He  was  unaware  that  he  held  con- 
verse with  one  whose  name  would  yet  fill  a larger 
place  than  his  own  in  Canadian  history. 


258 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1882 


Throughout  the  summer  the  entries  in  Father  La- 
combe’s  diary  indicate  the  steady  routine  of  his  try- 
ing ministry.  One  sentence — “I  want  to  rest” — 
occasionally  interjected  tells  a story  of  days  too  weari- 
some to  note  their  events.  One  day  in  November  he 
confides  one  cause  of  his  weariness  to  the  intimate 
little  note-book: 

“My  God,  send  me  back  again  to  my  old  Indian  missions. 
I am  longing  for  that.” 

But  his  day  of  deliverance  is  still  remote.  The 
Archbishop  can  not  release  him. 

At  Christmas  he  celebrated  Midnight  Mass  in  an 
abandoned  sleep-house.  The  trader  lent  him  cotton 
for  decorations,  and  the  navvies  built  a roof  of  ever- 
greens over  the  altar  to  symbolize  the  Cradle  of  Beth- 
lehem. Everyone  within  range  of  the  lake  lent 
themselves  to  aid  with  the  rare  joy  of  Christmas- 
tide. 

They  were  a rough  lot  of  men  separated  there 
from  all  that  they  valued  most  on  earth,  but  there 
was  a heart -drawing  power  in  the  ancient  rites  cel- 
ebrated by  this  unique  Blackrobe  in  his  evergreen 
temple  in  the  woods. 

When  Father  Lacombe  went  to  Winnipeg  in 
March,  1882,  he  learned  that  at  last  he  might  return 
to  his  Blackfeet. 

For  several  months  Bishop  Grandin  had  been 
urging  this,  for  he  still  claimed  Father  Lacombe  as 
his  Vicar-General  and  a missionary  of  his  diocese. 


1888 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


259 


The  Archbishop  reluctant  to  part  with  Father 
Lacombe  wrote  Bishop  Grandin  on  September  12, 
1881: 

“This  dear  Father  desires  to  go  to  you,  among  your 
savages.  ...  If  the  state  of  his  health  had  not  pre- 
vented me  I should  have  used  him  here  with  the  Indians  as 
you  desire  to  use  him.  I have  need  as  you  have. 

“In  fine,  my  responsibilities  as  a Bishop  do  not  permit  me 
to  send  away  an  individual  who  does  so  much  good,  and  al- 
though the  work  done  in  your  diocese  rejoices  my  heart,  you 
understand  that  it  is  not  the  fulfilment  of  my  first  duty  as  a 
pastor.  This  you  will  admit — but  we  have  a Superior  com- 
mon to  both  of  us:  he  alone  has  authority  to  do  what  you 
ask.” 

It  was  decided  that  Father  Lacombe  should  return 
west,  and  the  Archbishop  applied  to  the  Canadian 
Provincial  for  another  missionary  priest.  His  reply 
to  the  ProvinciaFs  letter  is  interesting: 

“You  say  you  have  no  one  to  send  me  at  present;  but 
after  an  ordination  you  may  have  perhaps  a newly-ordained 
priest  to  give  me  to  replace — my  premier  counsellor , my  ad- 
viser, my  Vicar-General , a missionary  who  speaks  four  lan- 
guages, one  who  has  thirty  years  of  experience!  Confess, 
mon  cher,  that  this  is  not  generous.  . . . If  I were  suffi- 

ciently near  you  to  embrace  you  en  pincette , I assure  you  I 
would  pinch  you  hard.” 

On  April  24th  Father  Lacombe  resigned  his  post 
as  chaplain  to  the  Canadian  Pacific  construction- 
camps.  He  acknowledges  to  his  diary-confidant: 


260 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1882 


“If  I have  had  many  difficulties  and  sorrows  here  I have 
also  had  many  consolations.” 

On  the  eve  of  his  departure  a fine  team  of  horses 
and  buckboard-wagon  were  driven  out  for  his  in- 
spection. Before  he  could  guess  his  good  fortune  the 
generous  contractors  presented  him  with  these  and  a 
tent.  Their  thoughtfulness  thus  provided  him  with 
transportation  and  lodging  on  his  long  drive  across 
the  prairies. 

On  May  15,  1882,  he  left  St.  Boniface.  He 
parted  from  his  beloved  Archbishop  and  confreres 
with  regret,  but  lay  down  gladly  the  responsibilities 
of  his  post  as  Cure  of  St.  Mary’s.  He  felt  he  was 
turning  his  face  away  from  the  troublesome  white 
newcomers,  and  that  he  should  now  go  to  his  Black- 
feet  to  make  them  ready  for  the  coming  of  the  pale- 
faces. 


Old  Fort  Whoop-up,  1874.  Near  Lethbridge,  Alta 


**  • . . Even  here  were  evidences  oi  the  white  man’s 
invasion  ’ ’ 


On  his  return  to  the  Indian  field  Father  Lacombe 
saw  a reprieve  from  uncongenial  surroundings,  such 
as  he  had  surely  merited  after  thirty  years  of  devoted 
work.  His  buoyant  nature  lifted  to  the  tune  of  ex- 
pectation, and  at  fifty-six  he  felt  himself  entering  on 
his  work  with  the  freshness  of  his  first  years  in  the 
west. 

For  eight  days  out  from  St.  Boniface  he  travelled 
along  the  railway  grade  to  Qu’Appelle  mission. 
Here  with  the  powers  transferred  by  the  invalid 
Archbishop  he  confirmed  sixty  children.  His  route 
now  lay  north  across  the  prairies  by  Battleford,  the 
seat  of  Government,  and  Fort  Pitt. 

He  had  believed  himself  returning  to  his  beloved 
wilderness,  but  he  regretfully  noted  that  even  here 
were  evidences  of  the  white  man’s  invasion.  Out  of 
old  Pile-o’-Bones  in  the  Qu’Appelle  valley  the  infant 
settlement  of  Regina  was  stirring  to  life,  and  along 
the  grassy  cart-trails  he  passed  groups  of  newcom- 
ers, fleeing  from  the  plagues  of  grasshoppers  and 
early  frosts  of  Manitoba’s  pioneer  period. 

As  his  buckboard  rattled  up  the  trail  to  the  old 
headquarters  of  the  Beaver  District — the  post  where 
he  had  disembarked  from  York  boats  with  Rowand 
in  1852 — he  blinked  increduously  at  a new  Edmon- 

261 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


188£ 


262 

ton.  The  Big  House — Kowand’s  Folly — had  been 
torn  down,  and  a new  residence  built  outside  the  pal- 
isades on  the  hillcrest. 

Stockades,  bastions  and  sentinel’s  gallery  had  all 
ingloriously  given  way  to  a low  plank  fence.  Up  on 
the  hill  log-shacks  were  set  down  in  clearings.  There 
was  even  the  semblance  of  a village  street  at  an  elbow 
in  the  trail  as  it  wound  eastward  up  the  valley  from 
the  Fort.  It  could  boast  a log  schoolhouse  and  shops 
of  free-traders. 

A telegraph  wire  ran  into  the  village  bringing  mes- 
sages from  the  great  Outside.  More  wonderful  still 
to  the  man  who  had  looked  for  the  old  wilderness — 
a tidy  little  printing-press  was  publishing  weekly 
editions  of  a newspaper  on  sheets  as  large  as  note- 
paper! 

At  St.  Albert  he  found  another  small  village  grow- 
ing up  in  the  vicinity  of  The  Bridge.  . . . 

Where  was  his  wilderness  gone? 

He  met  his  sister  Christine  here,  for  the  first  time 
since  she  had  become  the  wife  of  Leon  Harnois. 
The  announcement  of  this  marriage  in  1875  had  dis- 
tressed Father  Lacombe,  as  one  of  his  confreres — a 
merry  Breton  fond  of  a joke — had  written  him  then 
that  Harnois  was  one  of  the  most  reckless  of  the 
frontier-traders  and  adventurers,  as  a maimed  hand 
and  seven  bullets  somewhere  in  his  body  testified. 

Father  Lacombe  wrote  Christine  that  if  she  con- 
tracted this  marriage  he  would  hold  no  further  com- 
munication with  her.  . . . Mail  moved  slowly 


1882 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


263 


between  the  Red  River  and  Edmonton  House  then: 
the  letter  reached  Christine  only  after  her  marriage. 

“And  when  it  came,”  Leon  Harnois  told  me  thirty 
years  later,  “and  Father  Lestanc  with  his  good  heart 
said  to  us  he  would  write  Father  Lacombe  and  tell 
him  the  truth,  I only  laughed  and  told  him  to  say — 
‘That  is  all  right.  We  hold  no  further  communica- 
tion, if  you  wish.  ...  I have  your  sister:  that 
is  all  I want.’  ” 

For  Leon  Harnois — adventurer,  ex-trader  and  In- 
dian fighter  though  he  might  be — was  no  desperado, 
but  a debonair  well-mannered  young  Frenchman  of 
good  principles,  whose  adventurous  soul  caused  him 
to  drift  away  from  old  Louisville  years  before. 

He  was  a nephew  of  Papineau’s  friend,  that  Lud- 
ger  Duvernay  whose  Minerve  had  sounded  the  toc- 
sin of  independence  through  the  parishes  of  Quebec 
in  1837.  And  as  one  of  the  Harnois  of  Louisville 
he  was  not  inclined  to  sue  for  favour,  especially 
from  one  of  such  comparative  insignificance  as  a 
brother-in-law.  However  Father  Lacombe’s  hasty 
indignation  had  spent  itself  in  the  writing  of  the  let- 
ter, and  he  was  soon  reconciled  to  the  marriage. 

In  the  straggling  groups  of  Indians  met  at  Fort 
Edmonton  in  1882,  Father  Lacombe  found  traces  of 
what  he  feared.  The  buffalo  were  gone.  The  Cree 
braves  were  no  longer  free  or  independent.  They 
were  officially  restricted  to  reserves  that  were  but 
patches  on  their  old  hunting-grounds. 

Their  old  motives  of  race-pride  were  gone.  Their 


264 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1882 


faces  and  forms  had  taken  on  a cast  of  subjection  and 
servility.  They  were  a dark  fringe  on  the  ranks  of 
Humanity. 

Father  Lacombe  could  see  the  Indian  of  the  mor- 
row disregarded,  uncared-for,  unwelcome,  thrust 
back  further  and  further  from  his  old  territory. 
His  heart  brooded  over  it  all,  and  he  felt  himself 
called  to  give  the  remainder  of  his  life  to  their  pro- 
tection— as  he  had  once  given  his  years  to  their  evan- 
gelization. 

He  continued  his  journey  south.  Marvellous! 
. . . If  the  new  Edmonton  had  impressed  him 

with  the  advent  of  a new  regime,  he  was  still  more 
astounded  by  what  he  saw  as  his  buckboard  and  bron- 
chos carried  him  down  the  trail  past  the  Red  Deer 
River — through  the  borderland  of  the  Cree  and 
Rlackfoot  territories  into  the  Bow  River  country. 

It  was  little  more  than  twenty  years  since  he  had 
first  come  here  with  Alexis  to  nurse  the  Blackfeet 
through  the  epidemic : then  the  Crees  and  traders  had 
warned  him  not  to  go  among  the  murderous  Black- 
feet.  Even  ten  years  ago  he  had  traced  his  Tableau 
Catechisme  on  bark  in  the  Blackfoot  camp  by  the 
Bow  and  taught  his  childlike  naked  warrior  friends 
from  it. 

Now  there  were  white  men’s  horses  grazing  on  the 
rolling  prairies  and  long  bridle-trails  led  to  the  shacks 
of  young  English  and  Canadian  ranchers.  In  the 
beautiful  valley  where  the  Bow  and  Elbow  meet  he 
looked  down  to  the  slim  palisades  of  Fort  Calgary. 


1882 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


265 


Here  too  he  met  a single  red-coated  horseman. 

The  erstwhile  missionary-Crusader  who  had  ranged 
the  plains  armed  only  with  his  crucifix  and  Red 
Cross  flag,  could  appreciate  the  grandeur  of  the  fig- 
ure of  this  solitary  Rider  of  the  Plains. 

Two  great  agencies  met  there  near  Calgary — in 
the  trim  young  horseman  and  the  aging  priest  whose 
bronchos  jogged  as  peacefully  down  the  Trail  as  if 
they  were  the  traditional  fat  ponies  of  the  clergyman 
of  civilized  lands  and  their  driver  were  as  common- 
place. 

He  drove  in  between  the  straggling  shacks  and 
tents  already  spreading  across  the  prairie  in  antici- 
patory welcome  of  the  approaching  railway.  Here 
in  addition  to  the  mission  of  his  confreres  were  the 
white  barracks  of  the  Mounted  Police  and  trading- 
posts  of  the  Company  and  I.  G.  Baker.  Numerous 
prospectors  and  fortune  seekers  had  drifted  in  to 
make  a new  home:  the  village  radiated  bright  pros- 
pects. 

But  there  were  sad  associations  about  Calgary  for 
the  returned  missionary  . . . memories  of  his 

“fameuoc  Alexis,”  who  achieved  the  distinction  of 
erecting  the  first  building  here.  He  left  Edmonton 
in  1872,  after  Father  Lacombe’s  departure  for  the 
east  and  built  a house  on  the  Elbow  25  miles  from 
the  junction  of  the  Bow  and  Elbow. 

Since  he  could  not  accompany  the  master  he  loved 
with  such  doglike  fidelity  he  found  some  consolation 
in  settling  here  among  the  Blackfeet.  He  was  re- 


266 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1882 


alizing  as  best  he  could  the  mission  so  long  planned 
by  Father  Lacombe.  His  new  home  was  at  one  of 
the  shifting  centres  of  population  on  the  plains,  a 
rendezvous  for  the  Bloods  occasionally  visited  by 
American  whiskey-traders. 

The  following  year  Alexis  gave  over  his  house  to 
Fathers  Scollen  and  Fourmond  who  came  to  estab- 
lish a permanent  mission  for  the  southern  tribes. 
In  1874  a larger  house  was  built  here  and  another 
at  Fort  Macleod,  where  the  new  soldier-police  were 
established. 

In  1875  Alexis,  under  the  priests’  direction  built 
another  house  of  logs  at  the  junction  of  the  Bow  and 
Elbow,  with  a roof  of  spruce  bark  and  door  of  buf- 
falo hide.  It  was  here  the  Mounted  Police  received 
hospitality  on  their  first  arrival  in  Calgary. 

In  the  autumn  a larger  house  was  built  by  Alexis 
on  the  plateau  across  the  river.  That  winter  the 
buffalo  roamed  over  the  neighbouring  plains  in  in- 
calculable numbers.  Whenever  the  cupboard  looked 
lean  Alexis  strapped  on  his  snowshoes,  set  off  with 
sleigh  and  rifle — and  came  back  with  delicious  fresh 
buffalo-meat. 

But  in  the  spring  the  longing  for  his  old  master 
grew  too  strong  for  him  to  rest  contented  there.  He 
heard  that  Father  Lacombe  was  in  Winnipeg  and 
would  not  return  west.  One  day  he  told  Father 
Doucet  he  must  go  and  join  him. 

Instead,  poor  Alexis  went  wandering  over  the 
prairie  from  camp  to  camp.  His  mind,  previously 


1882 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


267 


somewhat  unbalanced,  became  unhinged  in  a form  of 
religious  mania  with  a belief  in  a divine  mission  for 
himself.  He  declined  to  live  in  the  Palace  at  St. 
Albert.  . . . At  last  word  came  one  day  to 

Father  Lacombe  in  Winnipeg  that  his  Alexis  had 
been  found  dead  on  the  trail  near  the  far-away  mis- 
sion of  Cold  Lake. 

Two  years  later  with  the  disappearance  of  the  buf- 
falo, famine  stalked  over  the  plains:  and  in  1882 
Father  Lacombe  found  that  while  most  friendly  re- 
lations had  been  established  between  the  priests  and 
Indians  there  had  been  little  progress  made  in  evan- 
gelizing them.  His  brethren  had  scarcely  acquired 
fluent  command  of  Blackfoot  before  the  wretched 
Indians  were  painfully  absorbed  in  a prolonged 
search  for  food. 

From  Fort  Macleod,  where  he  was  warmly  wel- 
comed by  the  Mounted  Police  officers  he  pushed  on 
to  the  Blood  Reserve.  Here  even  the  nonchalant 
Piegans  and  Bloods  unbent  to  enthusiastic  expres- 
sions of  delight,  when  they  learned  that  the  Man-of- 
the-Good-Heart  was  going  to  give  the  rest  of  his 
days  to  them.  His  reception  was  like  the  return  of 
some  great  medicine-man  to  his  tribe. 

Other  Blackrobes  might  be  their  friends  and  they 
could  respect  and  love  them,  but  this  fearless,  high- 
spirited,  tender  old  man  was  their  own;  and  they 
loved  him  greatly.  The  Journal  of  Macleod  mis- 
sion, which  record  his  re-entry  to  what  was  now  the 
Territory  of  Alberta,  note  that  it  was  easy  to  recog- 


268 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1882 


nize  the  ardours  and  enthusiasm  of  the  former  shep- 
herd of  the  plains.  A ten-years’  sojourn  in  another 
milieu  had  not  altered  him. 

The  mission-house,  fifteen  feet  square  only,  now 
served  as  “a  reception-hall  for  the  Indians  who 
flocked  from  all  quarters  to  see  their  former  mission- 
ary and  talk  with  him  of  the  good  old  times.  The 
air  was  continually  saturated  with  tobacco-smoke, 
and  the  calumet  made  the  rounds  continually.” 

Father  Lacombe  pitched  his  tent.  The  resident 
missionary  slept  on  hay  on  the  earthen  floor  inside 
and  cooked  their  meals  in  a clay  fireplace. 

At  Fort  Macleod,  where  he  located  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  Mission,  Father  Lacombe  found  only  a 
bleak  Police-post  whose  constabulary  found  their 
spice  in  life  lay  in  exciting  chases  of  whiskey-smug- 
glers and  cattle-rustlers. 

The  old  forts  of  the  whiskey-traders  at  Whoop- 
Up,  Stand-Off,  Slide-Out  and  Whiskey-Fort  had 
ceased  their  more  flagrant  operations  in  1874,  when 
the  Indians  brought  them  word  that  red-coated 
Britishers  were  riding  over  the  prairies  to  chase  them. 
Yet  some  daring  frontiersmen  lingered  to  trade  a 
little  bad  whiskey  for  buffalo-robes  while  these  lasted 
— and  later  to  satisfy  the  desire  of  the  very  thirsty 
whites  coming  out  to  the  plains. 

The  efforts  of  Father  Lacombe  and  his  fellow- 
workers  were  at  first  directed  mainly  toward  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Indians.  Whenever  and  however  they 
could  they  got  whiskey  to  drink.  Even  poverty  did 


1882 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


269 


not  secure  them  against  the  firewater,  which  they 
loved  so  fatally  and  which  was  rapidly  completing 
the  downfall  begun  by  their  loss  of  independence. 

There  were  always  ways  of  obtaining  liquor  with 
or  without  money  for  men  and  women.  In  fact,  the 
one  great  reproach  repeatedly  made  by  Chief  Crow- 
foot against  the  whites  was  that  liquor  was  contin- 
ually used  by  them  in  the  demoralization  of  the  In- 
dian woman. 

Following  speedily  upon  the  arrival  of  Father  La- 
combe  in  1882  a definite  change  came  over  the  Black- 
foot  mission-field.  The  Indians  seemed  to  enter  upon 
a new  phase  of  existence  in  which  they  undoubtedly 
owed  much  to  the  firm  direction  of  their  Arsous-kitsi- 
rarpi  and  his  lieutenant,  Father  Legal. 

In  the  latter,  a new  recruit  to  the  western  field, 
Father  Lacombe  found  a personality  as  strong  as  his 
own.  This  meeting  with  Father  Legal  indeed  was 
an  event  in  his  life  as  his  meeting  with  Bishop  Tache 
thirty  years  before  had  been.  It  marked  the  begin- 
ning of  a friendship  that  was  to  endure  for  his  life- 
time and  in  many  ways  contribute  to  his  comfort  in 
his  latter  days. 

The  strong  administrative  powers  of  the  young 
Breton  afforded  the  necessary  complement  to  Father 
Lacombe’s  unusual  ability  for  planning  new  move- 
ments and  securing  the  co-operation  of  everyone 
needful.  As  a result  each  enterprise  they  undertook 
was  markedly  successful. 

The  two  spent  the  winter  together  in  the  little  log- 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1882 


no 

house  on  the  Blood  Reserve.  When  they  had  dug 
their  potatoes  in  September  they  set  about  chinking 
the  house  with  mud  and  laying  a floor  in  it.  This 
done  they  began  work  upon  a Blackfoot  dictionary, 
employing  William  Munroe — Piskan — as  interpre- 
ter. 

In  the  afternoon  Father  Lacombe  taught  a class 
of  fifteen  children  and  a group  of  adults  each  even- 
ing. The  mornings  were  devoted  to  the  dictionary, 
which  they  completed  before  spring.  During  the  win- 
ter they  went  to  Macleod  and  there  superintended  the 
construction  of  a small  mission-house.  Whilst  there 
the  two  priests  occupied  a log-house  lent  them  by 
Col.  Macleod,  but  which  they  also  had  to  chink  with 
moss  and  mud  to  keep  out  the  elements. 

The  coal  areas  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Belly  River 
were  now  about  to  be  developed  by  an  English  com- 
pany in  which  Sir  Alexander  Galt  was  interested. 
The  latter  visited  the  west  about  this  time,  and  as 
the  Journal  of  the  Blood  Mission  notes,  Sir  Alexan- 
der agreed  to  saw  for  his  friend  Father  Lacombe 
10,000  feet  of  lumber  from  logs  hauled  to  the  Com- 
pany’s mill. 

Father  Lacombe  could  now  enter  upon  a campaign 
of  construction.  He  began  with  a building  at  Black- 
foot  Crossing,  but  while  here  his  summer  plans  were 
broken  into  by  a virulent  epidemic  of  erysipelas  among 
the  Blackfeet.  He  and  his  colleagues  spent  most  of 
the  summer  tending  to  the  sick  Indians.  His  plans 
had  so  far  progressed  by  September,  however,  that 


1882 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


271 


visiting  his  Bishop  then  he  could  declare  himself  well 
satisfied  with  the  year’s  work. 

He  received  about  this  time  a letter  from  his  mother 
which  is  the  only  one  of  hers  remaining  among  his 
correspondence.  The  venerable  woman  was  spending 
her  last  days  in  cheerful  serenity,  and  although  close 
on  to  eighty  was  still  knitting  socks  for  her  son. 

L’Assomption,  Nov.  4. 

“My  very  dear  Albert:  I received  your  pleasant  let- 

ter on  October  20th,  and  it  was  very  welcome.  You  may 
imagine  the  great  joy  I felt  in  receiving  it;  for,  voila,  you 
are  again  back  among  your  poor  Indians.  I am  glad  of 
this  for  your  sake,  because  you  have  wished  for  so  long  to 
return  to  them. 

“I  often  journey  in  spirit  to  your  poor  cabin;  although 
age  creeps  on  me  I hope  to  see  you  once  more : but  if  this 
may  not  occur  here  below — there  Above  I know  that  we  shall 
meet  again. 

“ . . . Do  not  be  afraid  to  let  me  know  of  your  work 

and  cares.  I am  glad  to  be  able  to  share  your  sorrows  with 
you  as  well  as  your  pleasures. 

“I  can  no  longer  see  at  all  with  that  eye,  but  I am  hoping 
that  the  right  one  will  remain  to  me,  for  I can  see  as  clearly 
with  it  as  with  the  two.  I read,  sew  and  knit  as  before — I 
should  like  to  send  you  a little  bundle  of  socks.  . . .” 


VI 


The  three  great  civilising  forces  of  Western  Can- 
ada— the  strongest  factors  in  its  development  from 
the  days  of  Verandrye  up  to  1880 — were  the  Hud- 
son’s Bay  Company;  the  scores  of  French  Oblates 
who  had  devoted  their  lives  to  civilising  the  Indians, 
and  the  Northwest  Mounted  Police. 

They  were  men  of  heroic  stripe,  all  three  types  of 
trader,  priest  and  constable:  each  deserving  of  the 
Homeric  epic  that  should  some  day  enshrine  their 
deeds  in  a living  monument. 

With  the  first  large  wave  of  immigration  the  Com- 
pany practically  ceased  to  be  a potent  factor  in 
western  life.  But  promptly  on  the  eclipse  of  the 
Big  Company  there  emerged  another  power,  which 
was  also  to  exert  a notable  influence  in  the  consolida- 
tion of  the  Dominion. 

This  was  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  which 
separated  the  prairies  forever  from  the  hazy  period  of 
travoix  and  canoes.  Already  the  steel  head  of  the 
road  was  advancing  on  Calgary,  justifying  the  faith 
of  the  men  who  had  built  it. 

The  opulent  latent  spirit  of  the  young  Northwest 
was  like  the  legendary  Princess  sleeping:  this  road 
the  daring  Prince  that  broke  through  every  obstacle 
of  rock  and  chasm  on  the  rugged  North  Shore — then 

m 


1883 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


273 


flung  itself  into  the  prairies  lying  in  virgin  enchant- 
ment. It  wakened  the  Spirit  of  the  land — and  the 
transformation  that  followed  forms  the  first  chapter 
in  the  history  of  the  New  West. 

To  Father  Lacombe’s  impressionable  mind  the 
Canadian  Pacific  looming  on  the  Calgary  horizon 
made  an  unforgettable  picture.  Years  later  he 
lapsed  into  reminiscence  in  forceful  French: 

“Hah!  I would  look  long  in  silence  at  that  road 
coming  on — like  a band  of  wild  geese  in  the  sky — 
cutting  its  way  through  the  prairies;  opening  up  the 
great  country  we  thought  would  be  ours  for  years. 
Like  a vision  I could  see  it  driving  my  poor  Indians 
before  it,  and  spreading  out  behind  it  the  farms,  the 
towns  and  cities  you  see  to-day. 

“No  one  who  has  not  lived  in  the  west  since  the 
Old-Times  can  realize  what  is  due  to  that  road — that 
C.  P.  II.  It  was  Magic — like  the  mirage  on  the 
prairies,  changing  the  face  of  the  whole  country. 

“We  know  of  course  it  was  not  built  without  the 
hope  of  some  day  bringing  in  much  money  to  its 
builders  and  directors — that  is  the  way  of  mankind. 
But  I say  to  you  of  the  men  I met  those  first  days  of 
the  road — there  was  more  than  money-making  in  their 
heads. 

“There  was  courage;  yes,  and  daring.  . . . 

Hah!  that  did  make  us  all  admire;  and  there  was  a 
great  faith  and  pride  in  this  country.  They  believed 
it  held  great  possibilities,  those  men  who  fought  so 
hard  to  carry  that  plan  through,  and  they  had  the 


274 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1883 


prescience  that  is  the  gift  only  of  the  great  men  of 
every  age. 

“Then  the  men  who  controlled  it  when  it  was  built 
— the  order,  the  discipline  they  demanded  from  their 
employes.  . . . Smith,  George  Stephen,  Van 

Horne  and  Angus,  hah!  . . . 

“How  we  admired  that  man  Van  Horne!  He  was 
a Napoleon  in  the  planning  of  his  work,  in  his  con- 
trol of  it  and  in  the  attachment  of  the  men  who 
worked  for  him.  . . . ‘Politeness  is  business,’ 

that  was  his  maxim.  He  gave  that  road  from  end  to 
end  of  the  continent  one  spirit — like  the  old  Company 
used  to  have  from  London  to  Oregon.” 

Weathered  frontiersmen  grumbled  that  the  railway 
would  destroy  all  the  freedom  of  the  good  old  days: 
the  red  man  looked  on  with  awe  and  suspicion.  One 
day  Father  Lacombe  was  called  from  Calgary  to 
quiet  the  Blackfoot  nation.  These  Indians  were  in- 
dignant that  grading  was  being  done  upon  their  Re- 
serve without  their  permission.  They  threatened 
they  would  not  submit  to  this  invasion  of  what  little 
land  remained  to  them. 

Father  Lacombe  hurried  there,  and  requested  the 
railway-men  to  cease  operations  until  he  could  settle 
with  the  Indians.  With  the  confidence  of  ignorance 
they  pooh-poohed  his  warning,  and  continued  work. 

Meanwhile  Father  Lacombe  hastened  to  the  chief’s 
camp  with  200  pounds  of  tea  and  as  much  of  sugar, 
flour  and  tobacco.  Through  his  friend  Crowfoot  he 
called  a council  of  warriors.  He  first  “opened  his 


1883 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


275 


mouth”  with  the  gifts;  then  urged  them  to  permit 
the  grading  on  their  land.  He  promised  them  Gov- 
ernor Dewdney  would  come  and  arrange  all  with 
them. 

The  Head-Chief  insisted  his  braves  should  heed 
the  words  of  a friend  who  had  never  lied  to  them, 
and  after  many  rumbling  threats  the  council  ended 
satisfactorily. 

The  construction-gangs  proceeded  peacefully  with 
the  grading,  incredulous  of  any  danger;  unaware  that 
but  for  Father  Lacombe’s  intervention  the  construc- 
tion of  the  first  Canadian  transcontinental  would  have 
been  attended  with  deliberate  bloodshed. 

The  Governor  came  to  the  reserve  before  long  ac- 
companied by  Col.  Macleod.  They  formally  ceded 
to  the  Blackfeet  another  portion  of  land  in  compen- 
sation for  what  had  been  taken  by  the  road. 


Father  Lacombe  had  returned  west  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  spending  his  days  on  the  plains  with  the 
Indians.  A year  later  he  found  himself  pastor  at 
Calgary  labouring  with  whites  as  at  St.  Mary’s  in 
Winnipeg. 

His  disillusionment  was  complete  when  in  August 
a newspaper  was  set  up  with  western  enterprise  in 
a tent,  and  in  the  same  month  the  first  train  reached 
Calgary.  The  arrival  of  this  last  was  heralded  by 
a telegram  to  Father  Lacombe  from  George  Stephen 
(later  Lord  Mountstephen)  the  president  of  the 
Canadian  Pacific,  saying: 


276 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1883 


“Come  to  lunch  with  me  to-morrow  in  my  car  at 
Calgary.” 

Father  Lacombe  had  known  Mr.  Stephen  since 
1881  and  at  Rat  Portage  once  advised  him  to  build 
the  road  through  the  Pine  River  Pass.  He  traced  the 
route  he  recommended  upon  a map  hanging  in  Ste- 
phen’s car,  but  while  the  directors  present  conceded 
his  advice  was  good  other  counsels  prevailed. 

Now  in  Calgary  the  president  triumphantly  re- 
minded Father  Lacombe  of  his  prophecy  that  the 
Company  could  not  find  a favourable  pass  over  the 
mountains  at  the  Row.  He  rejoiced,  too,  that  while 
his  own  car  was  within  sight  of  the  Rockies  construc- 
tion-gangs were  successfully  pushing  their  way 
through  the  Kicking- XT o r s e Pass.1 

At  the  luncheon  the  busy  Cure  of  St.  Mary’s  found 
himself  in  a rare  company:  a “pleicide  d’homines ” he 
calls  them  in  appreciation  of  their  individual  bril- 
liance. In  this  group  of  men  who  were  binding  Can- 
ada together  with  rails  of  steel  were  President 
Stephen,  Donald  Smith,  William  Van  Horne,  R.  B. 
Angus  and  Count  Hermann  von  Hohenlohe,  after 
whose  estates  in  Germany  the  nearby  station  of  Glei- 
chen  had  recently  been  named. 

The  repast  was  a pleasant  one  for  many  reasons. 
The  directors  were  delighted  with  the  progress  made 
in  construction.  The  missionary  was  charmed  to  en- 
joy again  the  company  of  men  of  such  parts. 

i This  Pass  received  its  name  from  an  accident  occurring  there  to 
Dr.  Hector  of  Palliser’s  party,  and  who  was  Father  Lacombe’s  guest 
at  Ste.  Anne  in  1858. 


1884 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


m 

This  first  train  to  Calgary  marked  an  occasion, 
and  was  celebrated  with  toasts  and  merry  speeches. 
The  cream  of  the  day  came  at  last : Mr.  Stephen  re- 

signed as  president  of  the  Canadian  Pacific  and  upon 
motion  of  Mr.  Angus  Father  Lacomhe — whose  serv- 
ices, as  chaplain  and  again  on  the  Blackfoot  Reserve, 
were  gratefully  recalled — was  then  unanimously 
voted  to  fill  the  position.  For  one  hour  the  pictur- 
esque missionary  of  the  plains  was  by  courtesy  and 
vote  of  the  executive  the  President  of  Canada’s 
greatest  corporation. 

Father  Lacombe  has  always  rejoiced  in  a graceful 
tour  dJ esprit.  He  promptly  accepted  the  honour  and 
the  President’s  chair — and  once  there  he  mischiev- 
ously nominated  Mr.  Stephen  to  the  rectorship  of  St. 
Mary’s.  The  election  was  proceeded  with  amid 
laughter  and  applause,  and  the  ex-President  accepted 
his  new  dignity  with  a glance  over  the  village  and  the 
simple  speech : 

“Poor  souls  of  Calgary,  I pity  you!” 

A pleasant  echo  of  this  luncheon-party  is  had  in 
a photograph  and  note  which  Father  Lacombe  re- 
ceived soon  after  from  Cardinal  von  Hohenlohe: 

“Schillingfuerst,  October  18,  1883. 

“ Very  Reverend  Father: 

“My  cousin  Hermann  tells  me  that  you  desire  my  photo- 
graph. I hasten  to  send  it  to  you,  recommending  myself  to 
your  prayers.  I have  the  honour  to  be, 

“Your  very  devoted  servant, 

“G.  Cardinal  von  Hohenlohe.” 


278 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1884 


The  luncheon  that  day  in  August  was  a cheery  so- 
cial affair,  but  the  day  did  not  pass  without  its  serious 
moments  of  discussion.  In  these  was  mention  of  a 
plan  to  bring  out  other  French  settlers  to  the  west. 
The  one  primary  need  of  these  solitudes  and  of  the 
traversing  railway  was  inhabitants.  Mr.  Stephen  de- 
sired Father  La  combe’s  co-operation  in  the  work. 

The  plan  there  agreed  upon  is  outlined  in  a letter 
written  by  Stephen  from  Montreal  on  January  25, 
1884,  to  Father  Lacombe  at  Ottawa: 

“Now,  as  to  my  proposed  French  colony,  I do  not  know 
that  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  say  anything  more  than  that  I 
will  be  ready  to  expend  the  sum  of  $500  on  the  homestead  of 
each  of  the  50  families  it  is  proposed  to  settle,  taking  a lien 
on  the  homestead  for  the  repayment  of  the  money  at  such 
times  and  such  interest.  . . .” 

as  agreed  upon.  He  suggested  that  houses  be  built 
for  the  settlers  after  Father  Lacombe  had  arranged 
with  the  Interior  Department  for  the  reception  of  the 
newcomers. 

Here  we  have  in  1884,  between  George  Stephen 
and  Father  Lacombe,  the  idea  of  the  ready-made 
farm  which  attained  successful  realization  in  the  Bow 
valley  in  1909. 

Several  letters  of  this  period  from  half-breeds  indi- 
cate that  one  of  Father  Lacombe’s  new  duties  was 
unofficial  arbitrator  in  horse-thefts. 

This  crime  was  the  chief  plague  of  western  life. 
The  Crees  sent  protests  to  Father  Lacombe  that  his 


1884 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


279 


people  in  the  south  were  stealing  their  horses,  and 
the  Blackfeet  went  either  to  the  Mounted  Police  or  to 
their  old  missionary.  In  the  supine  days  on  which 
these  Indian  warriors  had  fallen  a brave  might  no 
longer  seek  revenge  on  the  war-path. 

After  a theft  concerning  which  Father  Lacombe 
made  diligent  enquiries  through  a trusty  Metis  he 
finally  sent  the  man  to  the  Crees  of  Red  Deer  Cross- 
ing. The  Metis  reported: 

“They  know  nothing  of  the  horses  stolen  from  your  people, 
the  Blackfeet!” 

In  a second  letter  he  assures  the  priest  in  his  almost 
untranslatable  patois  that: 

“Since  the  Spring  the  Crees  here  have  stopped  this  business 
of  horse-stealing  that  they  used  to  carry  on  with  the  Black- 
feet; but  among  themselves  they  continue  to  steal.  There 
was  one  of  them  caught.  They  sent  him  to  Winnipeg  to 
prison  for  five  years.  The  Government  is  very  hard  on 
business  of  that  sort — it  is  reported  at  the  Red  Deer 
Crossing  that  twenty-five  Piegans  are  in  prison  for  stealing 
horses.  . . .” 

— indicating  that  the  Police  not  only  maintained  the 
law,  but  spread  a very  wholesome  fear  of  punishment 
through  the  Reserves. 

On  one  occasion  a Cree  who  lived  north  of  the  Red 
Deer  lost  his  entire  band  of  horses.  He  promptly  had 
recourse  to  Father  Lacombe,  and  the  almost  illegible 
scrawl  written  for  him  is  very  quaint. 


280 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1884 


“Red  Deer  Crossing. 

“Rev.  Fere  Lacombe: 

“I  am  very  angry  because  some  young  Blackfoot  men  came 
to  steal  my  horses  when  I was  camped  quietly  here  among  my 
friends.  They  say,  these  men,  that  they  came  at  night  in- 
tending to  steal  back  the  horses  lifted  by  the  Crees  from  them 
at  the  Cypress  Mountains.  But  they  were  lying  for  nothing, 
says  Gabriel  Leveille  who  came  in  yesterday  from  the  Hunt; 
and  he  passed  by  the  Cypress  Mountains. 

“You  who  are  down  at  the  Old  Man’s  River,  I pray  you  to 
take  some  trouble  to  find  and  return  my  horses  to  me.” 

All  of  these  communications  are  significant  of  the 
new  spirit  abroad  on  the  plains,  where  was  now  a 
definite  form  of  government  by  the  whites,  with  the 
details  still  sketchy. 

At  Calgary,  where  the  town-site  was  still  unsur- 
veyed, men  hurried  to  secure  locations  with  an  idea 
of  making  fortunes  out  of  town-lots.  The  air  was 
full  of  rumours  about  the  location  of  the  town;  no  one 
knew  definitely,  but  each  man  squatted  on  the  spot 
he  considered  likely  to  be  chosen. 

In  the  closing  months  of  1883  Father  Lacombe  and 
Father  Doucet  as  priests  in  charge  of  the  mission 
claimed  not  only  squatter’s  rights  for  the  mission- 
buildings,  but  as  male  citizens  of  the  Dominion  they 
felt  themselves  each  entitled  to  a homestead.  Father 
Lacombe  accordingly  selected  two  quarter-sections 
about  the  old  and  new  missions  on  either  bank  of  the 
river. 

A few  of  the  newcomers  who  were  building  where 


1884 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


281 


they  chose  set  up  shacks  upon  his  homestead,  refusing 
to  admit  his  right  to  hold  it  over  them.  Father  La- 
combe  warned  them  to  move  off;  they  persisted. 

“You  priests,  do  you  want  all  the  country?  I warn 
you,  you  can’t  have  this  bit,”  said  one  to  him — with 
probably  the  idea  that  the  priest’s  frock  prevented 
him  from  locating  a homestead  as  every  other  man  on 
the  ground  hoped  to  do. 

With  resistance  growing  Father  Lacombe  felt  he 
must  secure  his  holding,  and  as  the  claim  could  not 
be  registered  outside  of  Ottawa  he  decided  to  go  there. 
There  was  no  time  to  wait  for  permission  from  his 
Superior — without  which  no  Oblate  or  other  commu- 
nity-member makes  an  important  step.  Father  La- 
combe, the  advisor  of  Bishops  for  fifteen  years,  took 
on  himself  now  the  authority  of  a Superior  and  left 
for  Ottawa. 


VII 


Sir  David  MacPherson  was  Minister  of  the  In- 
terior then.  One  morning  as  he  sat  in  his  office  shut 
off  from  the  commonplace  world  by  noiseless  baize 
doors  and  the  imposing  quiet  of  long  Gothic  corridors, 
a priest  in  a dusty  black  cassock  was  ushered  in  to 
him. 

The  priest’s  hat  and  stout  umbrella  were  equally 
shabby,  but  the  strong  frame,  the  statuesque  face  and 
long  straight  silvering  hair  would  have  been  remark- 
able anywhere. 

The  doughty  Scotch-Canadian  was  impressed,  and 
curious.  The  eagle  eye  and  commanding  profile 
of  the  visitor  were  at  variance  with  his  modest  bearing 
and  studiously  respectful  speech.  But  MacPherson 
understood  when  he  heard  his  visitor’s  name.  . . . 

Pere  Lacombe. 

This  then  was  Pere  Lacombe;  the  very  name  car- 
ried weight.  MacPherson  had  not  met  him  before, 
but  the  fame  of  the  pioneer  was  already  spread  over 
the  official  world  of  Ottawa. 

The  plainsman  laid  his  case  before  the  Minister. 
It  sounded  reasonable : Sir  David  felt  inclined  to  com- 
ply with  his  request.  But  the  dignity  of  Govern- 
ments must  be  upheld — delays  and  red-tape  being  the 
traditional  safeguards.  Father  Lacombe  was  in- 


1884 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


283 


formed  that  his  request  would  receive  most  favour- 
able consideration,  and  if  he  returned  in  a few  days  he 
would  receive  definite  confirmation  of  this. 

That  did  not  meet  Father  Lacombe’s  wishes  at  all. 
Each  day  that  passed  meant  more  likelihood  of  new- 
comers building  on  his  land,  and  the  piling  up  of 
abuse  or  inconvenience  for  poor  timid  Father  Doucet 
— “God’s  lamb.” 

His  next  statement,  blandly  made,  took  away  Sir 
David’s  breath. 

“Non,  monsieur,  I cannot  go  until  I receive  that 
settlement  of  our  land.  I came  hundreds  of  miles  to 
you  just  for  this.  I will  wait  here  with  your  permis- 
sion. ...  I am  used  to  camping  on  the  prairie, 
on  the  floor — anywhere.  ...  I will  just  camp 
here  until  I get  my  papers!” 

He  looked  about  him.  After  the  mud-chinked 
shack  at  Macleod  or  the  shedlike  house  in  Calgary 
this  office  was  regal.  He  seated  himself  with  the  air 
of  one  who  settles  himself  comfortably  for  a length 
of  time.  . . . 

Sir  David  felt  the  force  of  a personality  quite  irre- 
sistible, and  let  the  red-tape  bandages  of  dignity 
relax.  He  immediately  wrote  out  a guarantee  of  the 
homestead  locations  on  the  sections  indicated  by 
Father  Lacombe.  The  patents  for  the  land  were  to 
follow  when  the  conditions  were  fulfilled. 

The  westerner  in  bowing  himself  out  from  the 
courtly  MacPherson  was  as  shabby  a figure  as  when 
he  came;  but  he  carried  himself  like  a chief  return- 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1884 


284 

in g from  a victory.  . . . One  wonders  what  ex- 

ploits might  have  been  his,  cast  in  another  mould  of 
the  frontiersman — the  adventurer  instead  of  the 
priest ! 

He  hurried  to  telegraph  his  good  news  to  Father 
Doucet;  then  went  to  Montreal.  FI  ere  he  did  a 
quaint  stroke  of  business:  upon  his  own  initiation  he 
had  hundreds  of  statuettes  of  Archbishop  Tache  cast 
from  a mould  by  young  Louis  Herbert,  and  sold  to 
that  statesman-prelate’s  numerous  admirers.  The 
proceeds  he  turned  over  to  the  missions  of  his  friend 
at  St.  Boniface,  who  was  greatly  amused  and  touched 
by  this  new  enterprise  of  eeni  matchi  Albert” 

Whilst  in  Montreal  he  issued  a letter  to  the  priests 
of  Quebec  begging  them  for  books  from  their  library: 

“I  will  say  from  experience  that  one  can  endure  well 
enough  a poor  dwelling,  coarse  food  and  coarser  manners ; 
but  to  have  few  or  no  books — you  will  agree  with  me  that 
this  is  something  to  which  a priest  can  resign  himself  with 
difficulty.  You  will  say  to  me  perhaps — ‘Why  not  buy 
some?5  Ah,  yes,  voila , a just  question.  . . . But  we 

have  no  means  to  buy  them.  That  is  why  I take  the  liberty 
of  knocking  at  your  door.55 

Books  literally  streamed  upon  him,  the  Cures  joy- 
fully finding  a place  for  their  antiquated  numbers, 
and  Father  Lacombe  returned  happy.  He  wired 
ahead  for  his  brethren  to  meet  him  at  Calgary  to  share 
his  good  fortune,  and  Father  Legal  records  in  his 
Mission  Journals  that  their  Superior  returned — 


1884 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


285 


“successful  to  his  heart’s  content”  in  all  his  affairs — 
homesteads,  schools  and  books. 

The  homesteads  were  divided  into  portions — for  a 
future  church,  hospital,  academy  and  cemetery;  while 
the  proceeds  of  town  lots  later  sold  from  them  fur- 
nished the  diocese  with  money  to  erect  buildings. 

Calgary  meanwhile  was  taking  shape  as  a town 
with  marvellous  rapidity.  Its  population  numbered 
five  hundred,  and  new  citizens  arrived  weekly.  Men 
foregathered  and  elected  a town  Council,  which 
promptly  crossed  swords  with  the  railway  company 
to  which  the  little  town  owed  its  existence:  there  was 
no  lack  of  spirit  in  the  new  frontier. 

With  the  white  population  monthly  taking  a 
stronger  hold  upon  the  land  the  establishment  of  In- 
dian Industrial  Schools  became  the  dominant  idea  of 
Father  Lacombe. 

Bishop  Grandin  had  originated  a campaign  for 
schools  in  the  mission  he  laid  upon  Father  Lacombe 
in  1872.  It  appealed  to  him  as  the  final  phase  of  his 
own  work  for  the  west,  and  though  enfeebled  now  he 
determined  to  carry  it  through  at  any  cost  to  himself. 

The  bishop  insisted  that  the  few  schools  in  exist- 
ence should  be  developed  and  extended,  teaching  the 
Indian  boy  to  till  the  soil  and  his  sister  to  keep  a 
house : in  this  way  to  reach  the  adult  through  the  chil- 
dren. To  do  this  schools  must  be  conducted  on  a 
large  scale.  But  how?  For  ten  years  he  had  ex- 
hausted every  effort  to  secure  money  for  this  in  Can- 
ada and  France.  He  was  still  without  means. 


286 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1884 


It  was  then  that  Father  Lacombe,  growing  in 
worldly  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  public  life,  im- 
parted to  the  bishop  the  idea  of  petitioning  the  Gov- 
ernment for  funds.  These  might  appropriately  be 
had  from  the  Indian  funds  held  in  trust  by  the  Gov- 
ernment. 

Father  Lacombe,  though  corporally  in  Winnipeg 
during  the  seventies  had  been  much  in  spirit  back  on 
the  plains,  and  at  every  feasible  opportunity  was 
helping  Bishop  Grandin  to  forward  their  school 
project.  The  plan  was  communicated  to  Archbishop 
Tache  and  the  latter  met  the  bishop  early  in  1883  at 
Ottawa  to  press  the  educational  needs  of  the  Indians 
upon  the  Government. 

That  spring  the  ministers’  offices  and  the  corridors 
of  the  Parliament  Buildings  were  for  some  days 
haunted  by  first  one  and  then  another  of  the  western 
prelates.  Representations  were  also  made  to  the 
Prime  Minister  by  Father  Lacombe  and  by  Sir  Al- 
exander Galt  at  the  request  of  his  missionary  friend. 

The  result  of  these  combined  efforts  was  that  the 
Government  authorized  the  establishment  of  three  In- 
dustrial Schools — at  Dunbow,  south  of  Calgary,  at 
Battleford  and  at  Qu’Appelle.  The  Government 
agreed  to  erect  the  buildings,  pay  the  principal  a fair 
salary  and  make  a per  capita  grant  toward  the  main- 
tenance of  the  pupils. 

Sir  John  Macdonald  writing  from  Riviere  du  Loup 
on  August  1,  1883,  to  a friend  of  Father  Lacombe — - 
who  forwarded  the  letter  to  him — says: 


1884 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


287 


“.  . . I am  down  here  getting  a little  rest  and  fresh 

air,  but  amuse  myself  occasionally  by  looking  over  my  cor- 
respondence in  arrear.  ... 

“With  respect  to  the  most  important  of  these,  the  estab- 
lishment of  Industrial  Schools  among  the  Indians,  I may  say 
that  all  difficulties  have  been  overcome  and  three  Industrial 
Schools  are  to  be  established — one  Protestant  at  Battleford 
where  the  government  buildings  will  be  available,  and  two 
Roman  Catholic  schools — one  under  the  patronage  of  the 
Archbishop  and  the  other  of  Bishop  Grandin.  The  Order  in 
Council  has  been  passed.  Mr.  Dewdney  has  been  instructed 
to  take  steps  for  their  establishment  and  Sir  Hector  Langevin 
has  called  the  attention  of  their  Lordships  to  the  importance 
of  the  Principals  or  Heads  of  the  schools  being  good  adminis- 
trators. Learning  and  piety,  however  necessary,  are  not  all- 
sufficient.  Good  business  ability  is,  if  possible,  a greater 
requisite  than  either  of  the  other  two.  . . .” 

In  1884  Qu’Appelle  and  Dunbow  schools  were 
opened.  Father  Lacombe,  although  still  supervising 
the  southern  mission-field,  was  given  direct  control  of 
Dunbow  school.  He  had  already  chosen  the  site  and 
directed  the  construction  of  the  building.  On  its 
completion  he  rode  out  among  the  Bloods  and  Pie- 
gans  asking  the  parents  to  send  their  boys  to  the 
school.  Father  Legal  and  Jean  L’Heureux  did  a 
like  service  at  Blackfoot  Crossing. 

The  Indians  however  absolutely  refused  to  part 
with  the  younger  boys  for  whom  the  schools  were 
intended.  Eventually  after  much  persuasion  the  mis- 
sionaries succeeded  in  assembling  seventeen  boys  from 
15  to  17  years  old. 


288 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1884 


Father  Lacombe  received  the  boys  at  Dunbow.  As 
a preliminary  they  were  shown  to  a room  containing 
washtubs.  They  were  directed  to  bathe.  Their  long 
hair  was  combed  by  Father  Lacombe  and  his  assist- 
ant, for  the  parents  had  refused  to  have  it  cut.  New 
clothes  were  supplied  to  each  boy,  and  his  own  tat- 
tered garments  rolled  away  in  a bundle  to  be  returned 
when  he  went  home  again. 

About  as  much  at  home  as  wildcats  in  a beaver’s 
well-ordered  domicile  the  young  Indians  were  given 
a supper  which  they  appreciated  more  than  the 
grooming.  Then  they  were  sent  out  to  the  prairie 
for  a play  hour.  This  was  Bedlam. 

The  lid  of  a repression  imposed  by  awe  of  their 
surroundings  was  thrown  off,  and  in  all  his  experience 
of  Indian  children  Father  says  he  never  witnessed 
anything  like  this.  The  boys  ran  wild  in  a riot  of 
horseplay.  . . . But  a bell  rang;  and  at  its  un- 

wonted sound  the  poor  young  mavericks  of  civiliza- 
tion were  rounded  up  and  sent  to  a dormitory  to  sleep. 

Here  were  compensations  for  the  broken  playhour. 

. . . The  stairway  was  a novelty,  and  the  boys 

found  rare  amusement  in  running  surreptitiously  up 
and  down  the  steps.  In  the  dormitory  they  were  in- 
vited to  undress,  and  each  put  in  possession  of  a little 
bed  decently  equipped  with  bedding.  After  the  first 
shock  of  surprise  there  was  another  Carnival  for  the 
seventeen  dusky  human  mavericks! 

They  laughed  and  sang,  and  with  all  the  Indians’ 


1884 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


289 


power  of  ridicule  made  light  of  the  odd  furniture. 
They  examined  the  beds,  explored  them  above  and 
below  and  punched  their  pillows.  Some  crawled  un- 
der the  beds  and  found  there  a new  vantage-point 
from  which  to  hurl  missiles  and  ridicule  at  those  who 
ventured  to  lie  on  the  beds. 

There  was  no  sleep  in  the  dormitory  for  hours. 
Father  Lacombe,  old  now  to  the  ways  of  Indians 
— sympathetic  always  to  youth,  merely  controlled 
them  from  his  own  apartment  without  any  effort  to 
repress  them.  Through  the  night  however  he  was 
awakened  by  a hilarious  rout  in  the  hall  below  the 
stairs,  where  some  of  the  boys  had  elected  to  finish 
their  frolic. 

On  the  following  day  the  teacher  went  about  or- 
ganizing a class.  With  the  consuming  curiosity  of 
their  race  the  boys  were  interested  in  its  first  session. 
They  were  then  and  always  reverent  and  quiet  at 
prayers — but  when  their  first  recess  came  there  was 
pandemonium  again,  and  reluctance  to  return  to  the 
class. 

It  was  so  during  all  the  early  weeks  of  the  school. 

“You  could  open  the  doors  and  look  inside  and  see 
— Hell  that  first  winter,”  said  Father  Lacombe  twen- 
ty-five years  later. 

The  main  difficulty  was  that  these  boys  were  too 
old  to  be  broken  to  school  ways,  but  they  were  the 
only  boys  available.  All  winter  they  continued  to 
he  as  wild  as  young  elk.  Sometimes  they  would  turn 


290 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1884 


the  playground  into  a battlefield;  more  often  they 
would  slip  way  to  a big  hill  a mile  distant  and  play 
there  well  away  from  the  shadow  of  the  school. 

Occasionally  the  teacher  on  ringing  the  bell  for  his 
charges  would  not  find  one  in  sight.  In  an  instant, 
so  it  seemed,  they  had  hidden  themselves  about  the 
yard,  ready  to  lope  off  to  the  prairie  if  the  teacher 
would  not  come  out  to  round  them  up.  During  the 
winter  some  of  the  boys  ran  home.  When  spring 
came  they  all  clamoured  to  be  free. 

Father  Lacombe  went  north  and  obtained  boys 
from  Cree  reserves.  By  degrees  the  Blackfoot  elders 
acquired  clearer  ideas  of  boarding-schools.  They  al- 
lowed a few  of  the  younger  children  to  go  with  Father 
Lacombe— some  girls  as  well  as  boys;  and  the  work 
was  considered  established. 

In  this  way  the  first  Indian  Industrial  school  of 
Alberta  took  shape. 

The  Grey  Nuns  who  had  volunteered  as  teachers 
quickly  secured  control  of  the  younger  pupils  and 
held  their  affections.  Little  by  little  a regular  school 
routine  was  formed,  the  children  lending  themselves 
more  readily  to  manual  training  than  to  books  after 
the  first  novelty  wore  off. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a system  that  has  since 
spread  throughout  the  west,  an  honest  endeavour  by 
men  with  the  best  interests  of  the  Indians  at  heart  to 
solve  their  problem.  The  schools  were  designed 
to  bridge  for  the  Indian  the  Transition  stage  from 
barbarism,  so  that  at  least  the  children’s  children  of 


1884 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


291 


the  warriors  of  Natous  and  Sweet-Grass  should  be  fit 
to  cope  with  the  Caucasian  civilization  that  threatened 
to  overwhelm  their  race. 

In  the  autumn  of  1884,  after  this  Industrial  school 
was  opened.  Father  Lacombe  as  Superior  of  the  whole 
southern  district  had  the  delight  of  welcoming  Arch- 
bishop Tache  to  Calgary. 

Aware  of  the  Archbishop’s  invalid  state  and  antici- 
pating his  anxiety  to  witness  the  marvellous  develop- 
ment in  the  remoter  west  the  president  of  the 
Canadian  Pacific  had  courteously  placed  a private 
car  at  his  disposal.  On  September  21st  he  arrived, 
and  found  there  to  welcome  him — -Father  Lacombe 
and  Father  Remas,  who  had  made  a retreat  with  him 
in  the  northern  woods  thirty  years  before;  Fathers 
Legal,  Doucet,  Claude  and  Foisy,  with  several  lay- 
brothers. 

The  venerable  prelate  heard  the  story  of  each.  He 
marvelled.  He  could  scarcely  credit  that  this  or- 
ganized district  with  new  buildings  at  each  mission- 
point  and  prospectively  valuable  property  in  the  town 
was  the  same  field  to  which  Father  Lacombe  had  re- 
turned two  years  earlier. 

There  had  been  then  only  two  missionaries  and  two 
log-huts,  mud-chinked  and  floorless.  To-day  . . . ! 
The  Archbishop  looked  about  him,  and  recognized 
the  old  powers  and  organizing  genius  of  his  friend — 
“ni  matchi  Albert  ” 


VIII 


The  frontier  town  of  Calgary  was  rapidly  rising 
from  its  first  semblance  of  a tented  village.  Primi- 
tive restaurants,  pool-rooms  and  shops  lined  the  Main 
Street  with  false  fronts  and  aggressive  signs  behind 
wdiich  the  newcomers  laid  plans  for  future  fortunes. 

Meanwhile  elsewhere  on  the  plains,  in  the  homes 
of  the  Metis  Old-Timers,  there  was  much  sullen  dis- 
content. 

The  insurrection  of  1885  was  impending. 

It  was  no  summer  thunder-cloud  coming  out  of 
clear  skies.  Grievances  had  been  rankling  for  at  least 
five  years.  Repeatedly  in  letters  and  interviews  the 
Saskatchewan  Metis,  and  Bishop  Grandin  in  their 
name,  had  urged  the  Canadian  Government  to  meet 
their  claims  to  land-scrip  similar  to  that  granted  to 
Manitoba  Metis ; likewise  to  initiate  measures  1 for 

1 The  formal  list  of  claims  of  the  Metis  included: 

(1)  The  division  of  the  North-West  Territories  into  Provinces; 

(2)  A grant  to  the  Metis  of  Saskatchewan  of  the  territorial  privileges 
conceded  to  the  Metis  of  Manitoba; 

(3)  That  persons  already  located  be  secured  in  title  to  their  hold- 
ings; 

(4)  The  sale  of  500,000  acres  of  Government  land,  the  proceeds  of 
which  were  to  be  devoted  to  the  establishment  of  schools,  hospitals 
and  other  institutions  for  the  Metis — together  with  a grant  of  seed  and 
agricultural  implements  to  the  poorer  of  their  number; 

(5)  The  reservation  of  100  townships  of  land  to  be  distributed  in 
time  to  the  children  of  the  Metis; 

292 


1885 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


293 


the  improvement  of  the  Indians’  condition  as  well  as 
their  own. 

Differences  with  minor  officials  of  the  government 
and  instances  of  misunderstanding  concerning  their 
right  to  hold  land  on  which  they  were  located  were 
causes  of  irritation  among  the  Metis.  A conscious- 
ness that  they  were  retreating  before  the  dominant 
newcomers  had  set  the  hidden  fox  of  envy  gnawing 
the  vitals  of  a race  still  free  and  proud:  the  Federal 
Government  neglected  their  communications.  . . . 

Here  was  sufficient  material  to  fire  a Metis  rising. 

Manitoba  Metis,  who  had  sold  their  holdings  to 
unscrupulous  white  men  for  trivial  amounts,  had 
emigrated  in  poverty  to  the  Saskatchewan.  They 
were  now  living  examples  of  what  their  brethren 
might  expect  in  the  future.  . . . The  Saskatch- 

ewan Metis  resolved  to  make  a stand  for  themselves 
and  their  children. 

Gabriel  Dumont,  a noted  hunter  and  relative  of 
Louis  Riel,  a recklessly  brave,  dashing  and  hospit- 
able fellow,  was  now  pushed  to  the  leadership  of  the 
French-Metis;  while  James  Isbister  of  the  Scotch- 
Metis  made  common  cause  with  him  against  the  new 
Regime.  The  united  halfbreeds  held  an  assembly  in 
May  and  there  delegated  Dumont,  Isbister  and  others 
to  go  into  Montana  and  bring  Riel  back  to  lead  them. 

Louis  Riel  was  then  employed  peaceably  earning  a 

(6)  A grant  of  at  least  $1,000  for  the  establishment  of  an  Academy 
at  each  settlement  of  Metis; 

(7)  The  improvement  of  the  conditions  of  the  Indian  nations. 


294 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1885 


livelihood  for  his  family  as  a schoolmaster  in  the  par- 
ish of  St.  Pierre.  He  did  not  leap  with  enthusiasm 
to  the  offer  of  leadership  at  first,  but  he  finally  made 
up  his  mind  to  accept.  Honore  Jaxon  (Henry 
Jackson),  the  young  Ontario  aide  of  the  Metis  and 
graduate  of  Toronto  University,  joined  Riel  on  his 
arrival  in  Canada  and  assisted  him  in  framing  what 
they  termed  a constitutional  agitation.1 

A number  of  white  men  were  now  interested  in  the 
movement,  urging  on  the  more  ignorant  Metis. 
Some  of  these  were  probably  moved  by  envy  of  the 
newcomers’  progress.  It  is  still  believed  along  the 
Saskatchewan  that  others  interested  themselves  in 
promoting  agitation  in  order  that  the  country  might 
be  flooded  with  negotiable  script.  Out  of  this  the 
Saskatchewan  man  of  affairs  might  hope  to  make  a 
fortune  as  easily  as  his  prototype  of  the  Red  River 
had  done. 

When  word  came  to  Bishop  Grandin  that  Riel  was 
again  in  Canada,  and  greeted  by  the  Metis  as  a Na- 
poleon returning  from  Elba,  the  bishop  hurried 
down  to  Prince  Albert.  For  fifteen  days  he  visited 

1 Jaxon  stated  to  me  in  Edmonton  in  October,  1909,  that  Isbister 
and  Dumont  brought  Riel  letters  from  leading  white  men  among  the 
old-timers  and  business  men  of  the  Saskatchewan  valley,  urging  him  to 
come  back  to  curb  the  ambitions  of  the  newcomers  and  secure  the  rights 
of  his  own  people. 

These  letters  Jaxon  saw  burned  at  Prince  Albert  at  the  close  of 
the  Rebellion  before  he  fled  to  the  United  States  and  freedom.  A 
prominent  statesman  of  Western  Canada  also  informed  me  that  he 
knew  of  those  letters  held  by  Jaxon  and  burned  by  a relative  of  the 
latter  at  Prince  Albert  in  order  that  the  writers  might  not  be  com- 
promised should  an  investigation  be  held. 


Interior  of  Fort  Pitt,  Just  Before  the  Rebellion  of  1885 

, Fire  Sky  Thunder;  2,  Sky  Bird  (Big  Bear’s  Son);  3,  Matoose;  4,  Napasis;  5,  Big  Bear;  6,  Angus  McKay 
(H.  B.  Co.);  7,  Dufrain  (H.  B.  Co.  Cook);  8,  L’Goulet ; 9,  Stanley  Simpson  (H.  B.  Co.);  10,  Alex. 
McDonald;  11,  Rowley;  12.  Corp.  Sleigh;  13,  Edmund;  14,  Henry  Dufrain. 


1885 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


295 


among  the  Metis,  pointing  out  the  dangers  of  a 
course  that  might  lead  to  combat  and  the  forfeiture  of 
all  rights  instead  of  securing  them. 

Seriously  alarmed  by  what  he  had  seen  and  heard 
the  bishop  wrote  a formidable  warning  to  the  Prime 
Minister : 

“I  have  seen  the  principal  Metis  of  the  place,  those  whom 
we  might  call  the  ringleaders ; and  I am  grieved  to  real- 
ise that  they  are  not  the  most  culpable.  They  are  pushed 
forward  and  excited  not  only  by  the  English  half-breeds 
but  by  inhabitants  of  Prince  Albert — persons  of  some 
prominence  and  opposed  to  the  Government,  who  hope  with- 
out doubt  to  profit  by  the  regrettable  steps  of  the  Metis. 
These  must  certainly  be  strongly  supported  to  act  in  this  way 
without  the  knowledge  of  their  priests,  who  have  now  been 
represented  to  them  as  sold  to  the  Canadian  Government. 

“It  will  surely  be  easy  for  your  government  to  suppress 
this  sort  of  a revolt- — which  might  later  have  painful  conse- 
quences ; because  the  Metis  can  do  as  they  please  with  the  In- 
dians. 

“How  many  times  have  I not  addressed  myself  in  letters 
and  conversation  to  Your  Honour — without  being  able  to  ob- 
tain anything  but  fine  words  . . . ! I have  written  at 

their  dictation  the  complaints  and  demands  of  this  discon- 
tented people ; I send  them  to  you  again  under  cover  with  this. 

“I  blame  the  Metis  and  I have  not  spared  them  reproaches. 
But  I will  permit  myself  to  say  to  Your  Honour  with  all  pos- 
sible respect,  that  the  Canadian  Government  is  itself  not  free 
of  blame ; and  if  I had  the  same  authority  among  its  members 
that  I have  with  the  Metis  I should  tell  them  so — more  re- 
spectfully doubtless,  but  with  the  same  frankness. 


296 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1885 


“I  implore  Your  Honour  not  to  be  indifferent  to  this  and 
to  act  so  that  this  evil  may  be  checked.” 

He  gravely  warned  Sir  Hector  Langevin : 

“.  . . Once  pushed  to  the  limit,  neither  pastor  nor 

bishop  can  make  them  listen  to  reason,  and  they  may  pro- 
ceed to  acts  of  extreme  violence.  I beg  you  then  to  in- 
stantly employ  all  your  influence  to  secure  for  them  what- 
ever is  just  in  their  demands.” 

The  bishop’s  letters  were  written  in  September, 
1884 — in  ample  time  for  the  Ottawa  Government  to 
have  averted  the  Rebellion  of  1885.  Ottawa  did  not 
unbend.  Why  they  did  not — why  they  paid  as  little 
heed  to  this  solemn  warning  as  they  did  to  Tache  and 
MacTavish  in  1869  has  gone  down  into  the  grave 
with  the  men  who  were  in  authority  then. 

On  March  18,  Riel,  whose  weak  brain  was  again 
unbalanced  by  excitement,  called  his  followers  to 
arms.  He  had  already  in  his  madness  set  himself  up 
as  a sort  of  Pontiff,  had  a new  scheme  of  religion 
planned  and  proposed  to  reorganize  the  Catholic 
Church  and  reform  Canadian  Government  in  the  west. 

Swiftly  following  upon  Dumont’s  encounter  with 
Crozier  at  Duck  Lake  came  news  of  Big  Bear’s  dep- 
redations and  the  massacre  at  Frog  Lake,  where  the 
Agent  Quinn,  Father  Fafard  and  Father  Marchand 
were  murdered. 

Canada  was  now  awake  to  the  urgency  of  the  Metis 
question! 


1885 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


297 


Father  Lacombe  hearing  the  news  telegraphed  into 
Calgary  mourned  again  that  he  had  not  been  left 
on  the  plains  in  1872  to  continue  the  work  of  Chris- 
tianizing the  Indians.  Had  he  done  so  the  mission- 
aries would  have  had  Big  Bear  and  Poundmaker  un- 
der their  influence  to  a degree  that  even  Dumont  or 
Riel  could  not  prevail  against. 

Chief  Crowfoot  he  felt  confident  could  be  relied 
upon  to  help  him  keep  the  southern  tribes  at  peace. 
He  wired  this  assurance  to  Sir  John  Macdonald,  who 
stated  1 in  the  Commons  on  March  26 : 

“I  had  a telegram  from  the  Rev.  Father  Lacombe 
to-day,  and  he  vouches  for  the  loyalty  of  all  the  Black- 
foot  Indians  at  Carlton  and  the  west.” 

The  Prime  Minister’s  idea  of  western  locations 
seems  to  have  been  very  inaccurate.  The  news  he 
conveyed  was  received  with  applause  however. 

Father  Lacombe’s  confidence  in  his  Blackfeet  was 
presently  tried.  On  the  evening  of  March  27th 
grave  rumours  spread  through  Calgary  of  fatalities 
near  Prince  Albert.  Though  remote  from  the  dis- 
turbance, the  townspeople  grew  afraid. 

It  was  known  that  emissaries  from  the  Saskatch- 
ewan Metis  and  Crees  had  been  skulking  in  the 
camps  of  the  Blackfeet  for  some  time.  It  was  real- 
ized too  that  if  the  Blackfeet  and  their  allies,  the 
best  fighters  on  the  plains  and  the  least  docile  of  all 
western  Indians,  should  unite  with  Riel  they  could 

i Debates,  H.  of  C.  (March  24),  1885,  Vol.  2,  p.  745. 


298 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1885 


temporarily  destroy  white  settlement  in  the  country. 
Calgary  had  reason  to  be  cautious. 

A Home  Guard  of  104  men  was  organized,  and 
the  leaders  telegraphed  Ottawa  and  Regina  for  arms. 
That  evening  the  almost  incredible  news  was  flashed 
from  Langdon  station  that  the  Blackfeet  were  about 
to  attack  Calgary.  The  Guard  was  sworn  in  for 
service;  armed  patrols  were  set  to  watch  the  town  by 
night. 

The  routine  of  life  was  rudely  broken;  people 
gathered  in  groups  on  the  street  to  discuss  the  shock- 
ing news.  Timid  hearts  could  see  visions  of  the 
painted  and  feather-decked  Blackfeet  riding  down  on 
them.  Excitement  was  intense  in  the  little  town. 

In  their  extremity  the  people  of  Calgary  turned 
that  night  to  Father  Lacombe.  He  agreed  to  go 
out  to  pacify  the  Indians,  though  protesting  there 
was  no  truth  in  the  rumour. 

“That’s  only  humbug!”  he  said.  “Crowfoot 
would  never  let  his  braves  attack  Calgary.” 

Men  shook  their  heads.  Not  all  of  Calgary  shared 
his  belief  then  in  the  Head-Chief. 

The  following  morning  at  dawn  Father  Lacombe 
departed  in  an  engine  lent  him  by  the  Canadian  Pa- 
cific. Arrived  at  the  Crossing  he  sent  for  Crowfoot, 
who  enquired  in  amaze  the  cause  of  a visit  so  early  on 
Sunday  morning. 

“Oh,  it  is  lonesome  in  Calgary  without  my  Black- 
feet. I want  to  visit  you,  and  meet  Father 
Doucet.” 


1885 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


299 


“He  gave  me  the  news  of  the  camp,”  Father  La- 
combe  recalls.  “Then  he  asked  if  that  news  was  as 
he  heard — that  the  Crees  and  Metis  of  the  Saskatch- 
ewan were  killing  all  the  whites.  This  is  what  the 
Cree  runners  from  Poundmaker’s  camp  had  told 
him! 

“ 'A  few  have  been  killed/  I said,  ‘but  this  is  a 
small  fight  that  will  soon  pass.’  ” 

Father  Lacombe  then  had  the  camp  assembled. 
He  gave  them  news  of  the  rebellion,  telling  them 
what  fools  the  Crees  were  to  fight  the  white  people 
who  had  so  many  big  guns  and  armies  they  could 
send  into  the  country.  For  even  if  the  Crees  con- 
quered now. 

“Those  strong  white  people  would  come  back  like 
a great  sea  that  could  not  be  stopped  and  the  Indian 
nations  that  killed  their  brethren  would  be  swept  off 
the  earth.” 

Crowfoot  was  a man  of  reason.  He  exhorted  his 
warriors,  took  counsel  with  them — and  finally  prom- 
ised Father  Lacombe  that  his  Blackfeet  would  on  no 
consideration  take  up  arms  in  this  rebellion. 

“Then,”  says  Father  Lacombe,  “I  decided  to  send 
a telegram  to  Sir  John  saying  the  Blackfeet  would 
be  loyal  to  the  last.  . . . By-and-bye  I heard 

from  one  of  my  friends  at  Ottawa  that  the  telegram 
was  brought  to  Sir  John  when  they  sat  in  Council. 
At  once  he  read  it  to  his  colleagues,  and  they  clapped 
their  hands  with  pleasure.  They  had  not  much  good 
news  from  the  west  in  those  days !” 


300 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1885 


“Soon  after  that  a telegram  came  from  Sir  John 
telling  me  to  do  anything  I liked  concerning  the  In- 
dians— to  make  them  keep  the  peace : the  Government 
would  approve  everything.” 

Sir  John  evidently  had  profited  by  a second  bitter 
lesson.  The  “big  chiefs  of  Ottawa”  had  at  last 
glimpsed  their  own  limitations  as  rulers  of  the  people 
by  the  voice  of  the  people.  They  could  now  appre- 
ciate both  the  danger  of  the  western  situation  and  the 
good  intentions  of  the  missionaries — as  well  as  their 
influence  over  the  Indians. 

Father  Lacombe’s  report  on  his  return  from  the 
Crossing  on  Monday,  March  30,  was  reassuring  to 
Calgary ; as  noted  in  George  Murdoch’s  terse  diary — 

“Lacombe  came  to-night  from  the  Crossing  and  reported 
all  well.” 

The  same  day  Sir  John  Schultz,  who  had  travelled 
a long  way  from  the  Red  River  physician  of  1870, 
wrote  him  from  Ottawa.  The  letter  is  significant  of 
the  attitude  of  Canadian  public  men  toward  Father 
Lacombe  at  this  period.  It  likewise  reflects  the  fat- 
uous complacency  of  the  government,  which  will  not 
recognize  the  results  of  its  own  dilatoriness: 

“The  Senate,  Ottawa,  March  30,  1885. 

“ Dear  Father  Lacombe: 

“Since  I had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  from  you  or  writing 
to  you,  what  sad  events  have  occurred  in  the  northwest;  and 
though  our  information  is  very  meagre  as  yet,  I am  afraid 
that  a great  mistake  has  been  made  in  coming  to  armed  col- 


1885 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


301 


lision  with  Riel’s  men  before  an  effort  could  be  made  to  obtain 
a peaceable  solution  of  the  difficulties. 

“Of  course  we  cannot  judge  very  well  at  this  distance,  but 
that  is  my  opinion ; and  I told  one  of  the  Government  yester- 
day that  had  no  collision  occurred  and  had  they  tried  to  avail 
themselves  of  your  services,  so  respected  as  you  are  by  Indian, 
half-breed  and  white  alike — you  might  have  solved  the  dif- 
ficulty with  not  unreasonable  concessions  on  the  part  of  the 
Government. 

“At  the  last  meeting  of  the  House  of  Commons  I was  glad 
to  see  that  Sir  John  quoted  you  as  high  authority  for  the 
hope  and  belief  that  the  Indians  would  remain  quiet.  I took 
the  liberty  of  recommending  that  your  services  should  be,  if 
possible,  secured  at  once  and  if  they  are  I feel  very  sure  that 
my  modest  friend,  Father  Lacombe,  will  show  himself  of  great 
service  to  the  peace  of  our  young  Dominion.  . . 

Following  upon  his  interview  with  Crowfoot  both 
Father  Lacombe  and  the  Government  thought  it  well 
there  should  be  an  impressive  peace-contract  made 
with  the  Blackfeet.  Consequently  about  the  middle 
of  April  Governor  Dewdney  came  from  Regina  to 
Blackfoot  Crossing,  accompanied  by  Father  La- 
combe, his  personal  suite  and  Captain  Denny  acting 
for  the  Indian  Department. 

The  good-will  of  the  Indians  was  that  day  con- 
veyed to  the  Canadian  Government  in  a lengthy 
telegram  inspired  by  Father  Lacombe  and  signed  by 
Crowfoot.  The  practical  result  of  the  day’s  cere- 
monies is  had  from  an  address  1 of  Sir  John  Mac- 
donald in  the  House  of  Commons: 

i Debates,  House  of  Commons,  1885,  Vol.  2,  p.  1038. 


302 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1885 


“I  may  as  well  now  inform  the  House  that  there 
is  no  further  news  from  the  North-West  that  would 
interest  the  House  except  the  fact  that  Mr.  Dewdney, 
the  Lieutenant-Governor,  accompanied  by  the  Rev. 
Father  Lacombe,  missionary  to  the  Blackfeet,  has 
held  a meeting  with  the  great  band  of  the  Blackfeet, 
headed  by  their  Chief  Crowfoot. 

“Father  Lacombe  says  they  had  a most  enthusi- 
astic reception,  that  the  Indians  pledged  their  loy- 
alty to  the  utmost  extent,  and  I have  received  a tel- 
egram signed  by  Crowfoot,  which  I will  read.  It  is 
not  in  Blackfoot: 

‘From  Blackfoot  Crossing,  via  Gleichen,  N.  W.  T. 

‘11th  April,  1885. 

‘On  behalf  of  myself  and  people  I wish  to  send  through 
you  to  the  Great  Mother  the  words  I have  given  to  the  Gov- 
ernor at  a Council  here,  at  which  all  my  minor  chiefs  and 
young  men  were  present.  We  are  agreed  and  determined  to 
remain  loyal  to  the  Queen.  Our  young  men  will  go  to  work 
on  the  Reserves  and  will  raise  all  the  crops  they  can,  and  we 
hope  the  Government  will  help  us  to  sell  what  we  cannot 
use. 

‘Should  any  Indians  come  to  our  Reserve  and  ask  us  to 
join  them  in  war  we  will  send  them  away. 

‘The  words  I sent  by  Father  Lacombe  I again  send:  ‘We 

will  be  loyal  to  the  Queen  whatever  happens.’  I have  a copy 
of  this,  and  when  the  trouble  is  over  will  have  it  with  pride 
to  show  to  the  Queen’s  officers:  and  we  leave  our  future  in 
your  hands. 


‘Crowfoot.’  ” 


1885 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


803 


To  this  Sir  John  telegraphed  the  reply: 

“The  good  words  of  Crowfoot  are  appreciated  by  the  big 
Chiefs  at  Ottawa.  The  loyalty  of  the  Blackfeet  will  never  be 
forgotten.  Crowfoot’s  words  shall  be  sent  to  the  Queen.  All 
Mr.  Dewdney’s  promises  shall  be  faithfully  carried  out.” 

From  the  time  of  Father  Lacombe’s  hurried  first 
visit  to  the  Crossing  until  the  Rebellion  ended  he 
spent  his  time  mostly  out  on  the  plains  seeking  to 
keep  the  Indians  pacified. 

A rumour  came  to  him  that  Ermine-Skin’s  Indians 
were  rising  in  the  north.  It  was  even  reported  that 
the  Metis  at  St.  Albert  district  were  threatening — 
but  this  Father  La  com  be  did  not  take  seriously.  He 
knew  too  well  Bishop  Grandin’s  influence  over  them. 

He  departed  for  the  north,  when  he  had  no  longer 
any  fear  for  the  south.  He  believed  Crowfoot  would 
keep  his  pact  of  peace  and,  keeping  it,  would  strongly 
influence  the  allied  tribes.  Moreover  Fathers  Legal 
and  Doucet,  as  also  Captain  Denny  the  Indian 
agent,  were  industriously  at  work  on  the  reserves 
keeping  the  tribes  quiet. 

This  was  absolutely  necessary;  as  the  records  of  the 
Blood  Reserve  mission  note: 

“These  Indians  had  a very  efficient  despatch  service  and 
they  were  fully  informed  upon  all  that  passed.  They  re- 
mained loyal  and  at  peace,  but  it  was  easy  to  recognize  signs 
of  uneasiness  in  them ; and  if  the  Metis  and  their  savage  allies 
in  the  north  had  been  able  to  maintain  the  campaign  longer, 
it  is  difficult  to  say  what  might  have  resulted.” 


304 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1885 


A letter  in  April  from  Father  Scollen  at  Bear 
Hill  reserve  greatly  disturbed  Father  Lacombe. 
He  related  that  a courier  riding  from  Edmonton 
passed  through  the  reserve  at  a steeple-chase  rate, 
warning  all  the  whites  as  he  went.  The  half-dozen 
white  people  there  fled  to  Edmonton.  Father  Scol- 
len and  his  lay-brother  remained  alone  with  the  In- 
dians who  were  now  hugely  excited. 

They  believed  that  Riel  was  about  to  pass  through 
the  country  with  an  army,  sweeping  all  before  him. 
The  days  of  the  whites  were  numbered,  they  said,  and 
the  buffalo  would  return.  A band  of  painted  war- 
riors looted  the  store  in  the  village.  The  older, 
staider  men  supported  Father  Scollen  in  his  protest 
against  any  brave  joining  Riel,  and  with  one  of  the 
chiefs  he  succeeded  in  breaking  up  a war-dance  of 
the  young  men. 

This  letter  caused  Father  Lacombe  to  realize 
afresh  the  imminent  dangers  and  the  slight  weights 
on  which  everywhere  the  balance  might  turn.  He  at 
once  departed  for  the  north  with  an  old  Metis  to 
pacify  any  restless  Crees  he  could  meet,  and  to  visit 
the  bishop. 

He  arrived  at  St.  Albert  at  noon.  The  bishop 
was  pacing  slowly  through  the  grounds  before  his 
log-palace  lost  in  thought.  . . . When  his 

glance  fell  upon  the  unexpected  visitor  the  sur- 
prise so  affected  him  that  he  tottered  to  a nearby 
seat. 

His  unhinged  nerves  cried  out  that  Father  La- 


1885 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


305 


combe’s  arrival  meant  some  fresh  trouble  had  befallen 
their  Indian  charges  or  their  own  men.  The  massa- 
cre of  the  two  young  priests  at  Frog  Lake — the 
knowledge  that  others  were  even  then  imprisoned — 
and  the  grief  he  felt  over  the  whole  uprising  had  com- 
pletely worn  him  out. 

He  was  so  pitifully  broken  with  this  fresh  emotion 
and  so  nervous  that  at  first  Father  Lacombe  would 
not  let  him  talk,  but  soothed  him  with  assurances  of 
the  peaceful  condition  of  the  south.  Always  strong 
and  optimistic,  without  an  enfeebled  nerve  in  his  en- 
tire makeup,  Father  Lacombe  was  a tower  of 
strength  to  the  bishop  then. 

This  period  assuredly  was  a Golgotha  to  the  sensi- 
tive prelate,  mourning  his  own  helplessness  to  stem 
the  insurrection.  He  could  not  leave  St.  Albert,  for 
the  Government  had  requested  him  to  remain  there 
to  ensure  the  peaceful  attitude  of  the  large  colonies 
of  Metis  in  that  district.  Many  persons  from  Ed- 
monton and  the  surrounding  country  had  taken 
refuge  near  him.  So  this  physically-broken  man, 
who  dominated  the  position  in  one  portion  of  the 
west,  had  to  chafe  at  home  in  inactivity. 

On  his  return  journey  Father  Lacombe  met  many 
Crees  at  Bear  Hill  Reserve,  among  them  his  friend 
Chief  Ermine- Skin.  The  latter  was  not  content  to 
speak  his  loyal  intentions  to  the  missionary.  He  de- 
sired to  communicate  them  to  General  Strange,  the 
commander  of  the  Canadian  soldiery  encamped 
nearby. 


306 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1885 


Father  Lacombe  brought  him  to  the  camp.  It  was 
dusk  when  they  approached  the  lines,  and  they  were 
challenged  by  the  sentry. 

Father  Lacombe  did  not  know  the  pass-word.  To 
the  challenge — “Qui-va-la?”  he  answered  only: 

“Pere  Lacombe” 

The  name  proved  a Sesame  here,  as  in  the  camps 
of  the  Crees  and  Blackfeet! 

The  soldier  immediately  stepped  aside  to  let  him 
pass. 

Lacombe  was  one  of  the  watchwords  of  this  camp, 
whose  occupants — the  65th  Regiment  from  Montreal 
— were  familiar  with  Father  Lacombe’s  services  to 
the  west. 

Meanwhile  the  fate  of  the  rebels  was  being  worked 
out  on  the  plains  of  the  Saskatchewan.  When  Riel 
and  Poundmaker  surrendered  in  May  the  insurrec- 
tion was  virtually  over. 

A letter  written  by  Father  Legal  to  his  Superior 
after  a summer  spent  with  the  Indians  reflects  con- 
ditions in  outlying  camps: 

“Macleod,  August,  1885. 

“Dear  Father  Lacombe: 

“I  received  yesterday  at  Macleod  a few  lines  which  you 
wrote  to  me  on  the  envelope  of  a letter  from  France.  C’est 
bien;  I will  remain  here  awaiting  your  orders. 

“I  have  passed  the  last  two  weeks  with  the  Blood  nation. 
I camped  in  a tent  in  their  midst.  The  villages  are  aban- 
doned. . . . The  Indians  are  quiet,  but  they  are  far 

from  being  persuaded  of  the  defeat  of  the  Crees  and  Metis. 


1885 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


307 


All  sorts  of  rumours,  more  or  less  resembling  the  truth,  are 
being  circulated  among  the  two  camps. 

“For  instance  lately  an  Indian  who  came  from  Blackfoot 
Crossing  related  that  the  Police  and  Blackfeet  were  on  the 
point  of  attacking  each  other  at  Calgary — and  that  the  shed- 
ding of  blood  had  only  been  prevented  by  your  intervention 
. . . that  seven  cannons  had  arrived — three  for  Calgary 

and  four  for  Macleod  . . . and  that  Crowfoot  was  very 

exasperated 1 against  the  Whites  . . . that  he  threat- 

ened to  assemble  a multitude  of  Indians  w7hom  he  would  bring 
from  across  the  Mountains.  What  is  there  of  truth  in  all 
this  ? 

“I  have  told  them  that  your  letter,  which  I had  just  re- 
ceived, told  me  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  Indian  pretends  to 
have  his  information  from  Crowfoot  himself — ‘Who,’  he  said, 
‘knows  whereof  he  speaks  and  is  not  a child.’  It  is  in  this  way 
they  excite  one  another.” 

i The  talk  of  Crowfoot’s  exasperation  may  have  arisen  from  some 
hasty  expression  of  this  Chief — though  he  was  in  act  loyal  through- 
out the  Rebellion.  It  is  related  in  Father  Doucet’s  manuscript  Notes 
of  the  Blackfoot  Missions  that  Crowfoot  was  greatly  annoyed  when 
Poundmaker  (his  adopted  son)  was  imprisoned  after  his  surrender — 
and  it  was  reported  that  this  likable  Chief  would  be  put  to  death. 

It  is  possible  that  Crowfoot  was  then  provoked  to  hasty  remarks 
of  a threatening  nature. 


IX 


The  services  of  Father  Lacombe  in  the  interest 
of  public  welfare  during  the  Rebellion  were  gener- 
ously acknowledged  in  public  and  private  by  various 
Canadian  statesmen,  by  congratulatory  letters  and 
otherwise.1 

The  Government  now  secured  Father  Lacombe  as 
census-enumerator  for  the  first  census  of  the  Black- 
feet  and  their  allies.  The  resultant  statistics  indi- 
cate clearly  a transition  stage:  as  on  the  Blood  Re- 
serve the  population  of  2,251  possessed  1,500  horses, 
lived  in  tepees  most  of  the  year  but  had  already  built 
220  permanent  dwellings  on  their  reserves. 

In  his  activities  here,  however,  Father  Lacombe 
did  not  lose  sight  of  the  misguided  Crees  and  Metis 
who  were  now  chafing  in  imprisonment  for  partici- 
pation in  the  Rebellion.  The  opening  months  of 
1886  found  him  at  Ottawa  urgently  pleading  for  the 
release  of  Chief  Poundmaker  and  others. 

He  was  most  favourably  heard  by  the  Prime  Min- 
ister and  his  new  colleague,  Sir  John  Thompson,  the 
young  Catholic  judge  upon  whom  Sir  John — pre- 

1 It  was  with  Father  Lacombe  and  his  confreres  in  mind  that  Sir 
John  Macdonald  said  in  a public  address  in  England  in  1886:  . • 

The  finest  moral  police  in  the  world  is  to  be  found  in  the  priesthood  of 
French  Canada.” 


308 


1886 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


309 


eminently  of  a subtle  wit — had  bestowed  a portfolio 
and  with  it  the  responsibility  of  explaining  Riel’s  ex- 
ecution to  Catholic  Quebec. 

Father  Lacombe  was  joined  in  his  representations 
at  Ottawa  by  Archbishop  Tache.  They  were  en- 
tirely successful,  and  on  March  4th  Father  Lacombe 
could  return  to  Winnipeg.  Without  waiting  for 
food  or  rest  he  hastened  out  to  the  Penitentiary  to 
bring  the  good  news  to  Poundmaker  and  his  men. 

“Ah,  the  scene  in  that  Penitentiary  when  I went 
with  Governor  Bedson  to  tell  our  Indians  they  were 
free  to  go  home  to  the  plains  again,”  Father  La- 
combe recalls.  “They  were  so  happy — like  little  chil- 
dren. Bedson,  my  good  friend,  made  them  a ban- 
quet and  gave  them  presents.  To  Poundmaker  he 
gave  a watch — and  we  drove  away  in  carriages  to  the 
Archbishop’s  Palace. 

“We  stayed  there  overnight.  Then  we  went  by 
train  to  Qu’Appelle,  the  Government  paying  all  the 
expenses  of  the  journey.  The  passengers  were  very 
curious  about  us  and  asked  many  questions.  But 
my  Indians  thought  of  nothing  except  that  they  were 
going  home.  At  Qu’Appelle  I gave  them  over  to  our 
Fathers  there,  and  they  took  them  north  into  their 
own  country. 

“I  was  sorry  I could  not  take  a pardon  to  all  of 
the  prisoners  that  day;  but  I could  promise  it  to  the 
others  soon.  Before  the  year  they  were  free.  Big 
Bear  was  one  of  the  last  to  leave — one  year  after 
Poundmaker  went  home.” 


810 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1886 


During  his  visit  to  Ottawa  this  winter  Sir  John 
Macdonald  invited  him  to  return  with  Crowfoot  and 
others  of  the  allied  chiefs  who  had  remained  loyal  to 
the  Government.  He  desired  to  show  his  apprecia- 
tion of  their  conduct.  Likewise  it  was  felt  that  the 
chiefs’  visit  might  serve  as  an  object-lesson  of  the 
white  man’s  power. 

Crowfoot  and  his  brethren — Three  Bulls  and  Red 
Crow — were  now  made  ready  as  befitted  chiefs  of 
their  rank,  and  their  people  assembled  en  masse  to 
watch  them  ride  away  on  gaily-caparisoned  ponies 
to  the  Crossing.  Here  they  committed  themselves 
to  the  demonlike  horse  which  was  to  carry  them  a 
long  journey  many  days  from  their  own  people. 

They  did  not  take  this  step  without  hesitation, 
were  reassured  only 
o f -the  - Go  o d - XI  e art  was  to  be  their  guide;  for  though 
Crowfoot  would  not  accept  his  Christian  teachings 
he  loved  and  trusted  the  man  himself. 

The  party  was  provided  with  transportation  over 
the  Canadian  Pacific,  to  Ottawa,  Montreal  and  Que- 
bec, and  their  passage  was  something  of  a royal 
}3rogress.  People  everywhere  crowded  to  see  them. 
Hotels  vied  to  secure  them  as  guests  and  different  the- 
atres were  anxious  to  have  them  occupy  boxes. 

At  Ottawa  they  were  received  by  Sir  John  in  the 
Parliament  Buildings — then  entertained  at  his  res- 
idence. The  Governor-General  was  waited  upon  at 
Rideau  Hall,  the  Archbishop  at  his  Palace;  and 
everywhere  the  little  bronzed  missionary  and  his 


by  the  fact  that  the  Man- 


1886 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


311 


silent  warriors  were  welcomed  with  impressive  friend- 
liness. 

At  a public  reception  given  by  the  city  of  Ottawa, 
Crowfoot’s  fine  manner  and  physique  astonished  the 
assembled  multitude.  His  address,  which  was  de- 
livered with  superb  gestures  was  translated  into 
English  by  Jean  L’Heureux,  whose  services  Father 
Lacombe  had  thoughtfully  rewarded  by  including  in 
the  party. 

At  the  close  of  his  speech  Crowfoot  placed  his 
hand  affectionately  upon  Father  Lacombe’s  shoul- 
der, and  looking  down  at  him,  said: 

“This  man,  Arsous-kitsi-rarpi,  is  our  brother — 
not  only  our  Father,  as  the  white  people  call  him — 
but  our  brother.  He  is  one  of  our  people.  When 
we  weep  he  is  sad  with  us;  when  we  laugh  he  laughs 
with  us.  We  love  him.  He  is  our  brother!” 

It  was  a simple  summing-up  of  a whole-hearted 
devotion. 

At  the  hotels  these  veteran  warriors  would  not  oc- 
cupy the  fine  suites  of  rooms  reserved  for  them:  they 
felt  safer  in  one  apartment.  They  were  uneasy  when 
Father  Lacombe  was  out  of  their  sight  and  insisted 
he  should  sleep  in  the  same  room  as  they  did. 

One  day  when  Sir  John  Macdonald  telegraphed 
Father  Lacombe  to  come  from  Montreal  to  Ottawa 
on  business,  the  Blackfeet  were  genuinely  distressed. 

“Do  not  go.  We  will  be  alone,”  they  protested. 
“And  what  will  we  do  alone  in  this  big  country?” 

He  persuaded  them  to  let  him  go  to  Ottawa  in  the 


312 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1887 


morning  and  he  would  return  before  night.  Mean- 
while they  had  him  order  their  meals  served  in  their 
own  room,  and  they  did  not  leave  it  nor  would  they 
close  their  eyes  in  sleep  until  he  returned. 

To  a Roller  Rink  the  party  went  one  day,  the 
chiefs  exclaiming  with  laughter  at  the  whirling 
whites  as  a Canadian  might  find  amusement  in  a 
whirling  dervish.  They  went  another  day  to  the 
Royal  Theatre,  but  soon  tired  of  the  bright  lights  and 
scenes  that  were  merely  new  phases  of  the  drama  of 
civilization  unfolding  itself  daily  to  them. 

At  Quebec  the  visitors  were  guests  of  the  Officers’ 
Mess  at  the  Citadel;  they  were  guests  at  a sham  bat- 
tle at  Levis,  and  Crowfoot  with  the  military  com- 
mander reviewed  a regimental  parade  on  the  Champ 
de  Mars.  The  Government  judiciously  desired  that 
Crowfoot  should  return  home  with  a vivid  realization 
of  the  fighting  power  of  the  white  race. 

Perhaps  the  most  demonstrative  reception  of  their 
tour  was  accorded  them  at  a bazaar  held  in  Mon- 
treal. Clad  in  skin  garments,  feathers  and  brass 
ornaments  the  warriors  and  their  cicerone  were  the 
chief  attraction  of  the  festivity.  Here  as  elsewhere 
the  stately  Crowfoot  was  the  Lion.  A group  of 
Iriquois  chieftains  from  Caughnawaga  only  served  as 
foils  to  show  up  the  primitive  grandeur  of  Father 
Lacombe’s  proteges. 

On  the  final  night  of  the  bazaar  Crowfoot  was  led 
to  the  stage  and  there  presented  with  a stack  of  rifles 
and  ammunition.  He  astounded  his  hearers  by 


1887 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


SIS 


rejecting  them  with  a magnificent  gesture,  as  he 
said: 

“I  do  not  want  these  guns  you  would  give  me.  I 
did  not  come  here  to  make  war — nor  to  defend  my- 
self; because  I am  with  friends  here.  I have  not 
even  a small  knife  to  defend  myself.  . . . Keep 

the  guns;  we  have  many  guns  in  our  country!” 

Translated  into  French  by  Father  Lacombe  the 
chief’s  pronouncement  was  greeted  with  wild  Bravos ! 
and  cheers.  His  apparent  hurt  at  the  gift,  the  sin- 
cerity of  his  avowal  of  friendship  struck  to  the  hearts 
of  the  impressionable  audience.  . . . To  their 

aroused  sympathies  his  words  thrilled  with  the  rude 
chivalry  of  the  plains:  they  were  seized  with  the 
strength  of  his  personality.  . . . Vivat  Crow- 
foot! 

Flowers  and  shawls  and  handsome  gifts  were  then 
suddenly  showered  on  the  stage  at  his  feet  by  the 
wildly  enthusiastic  people.  These,  they  assured  him, 
were  the  tokens  of  friendship  he  was  to  bring  back 
to  the  allied  tribes  from  the  French-Canadians  of 
Montreal,  and  Crowfoot  accepted  the  new  gifts  with 
cordiality. 

On  their  return  home  the  lodges  of  the  Blackfeet 
echoed  for  months  the  tales  of  the  wonders  of  the 
east  and  the  cities  of  the  white  men:  for  the  Indian’s 
face  may  be  impassive,  but  his  eye  reaps  its  harvest 
and  his  memory  is  long. 

The  closing  months  of  this  year  and  several  in  1887 
were  spent  by  Father  Lacombe  in  supervising  the 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1887 


314 

mission-work  of  his  southern  district,  with  several 
visits  to  Edmonton  to  secure  Cree  children  for  the 
Dunbow  School.  There  was  one  pleasant  interval 
of  relaxation,  when  he  led  an  excursion  by  rail  to  the 
Pacific. 

This  was  a tour  especially  planned  by  him 
for  the  benefit  of  Archbishop  Fabre  and  Arch- 
bishop Tache,  but  he  also  invited  Father  Maisonneuve 
now  old  and  frail  and  deaf,  resting  at  St.  Boniface 
after  years  of  hardship  along  the  Saskatchewan. 

Here  and  there  at  the  points  tended  by  isolated 
missionaries  an  Oblate  brother,  shabbily  clad,  brown 
with  exposure  but  light  of  heart,  boarded  their  car — 
to  be  swept  into  a whirl  of  fraternal  greetings,  to 
marvel  at  the  grandeur  of  their  equipage,  then  to 
drop  back  into  the  routine  of  everyday  work  as  the 
train  sped  on. 

At  the  Columbia  in  the  Rockies  where  that  river 
winds  north  about  a mass  of  mountains,  Father  La- 
combe  recalled  his  prophecy  to  the  promoters  of  the 
Canadian  Pacific  that  they  would  be  unable  to  make 
a desirable  passage  through  the  Kicking  Horse  Pass. 
He  saw  now  that  while  the  Columbia  River  falls 
back  before  the  Selkirks  the  engineers  of  the  Cana- 
dian Pacific,  more  daring  than  Nature,  had  thrown 
their  iron  road  triumphantly  over  the  obstacle. 

At  Vancouver,  then  the  crude  young  terminal  of 
the  C.  P.  R. — the  visitors  were  given  a civic  recep- 
tion. Toward  evening  they  were  conducted  to  the 
harbour,  where  a beautiful  spectacle  awaited  them. 


1887 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


315 


An  Indian  village  across  the  bay  was  fantastically 
illuminated  with  Chinese  lanterns  and  on  the  harbour 
a flotilla  of  Indian  canoes  spread  out.  Chinese  lan- 
terns attached  to  the  slender  rigging  gemmed  the 
floating  parade  which  formed  and  re-formed  in  be- 
wildering manoeuvres  about  the  boat  of  the  Bishop’s 
party. 

As  the  dainty  craft  darted  here  and  there  across  the 
water  there  rose  from  hundreds  of  breasts  the  wild 
melody  of  Indian  hymns.  Three  great  cannons 
added  their  voices  to  the  tumult  of  joyous  welcome 
as  the  procession  moved  across  the  Bay,  until  at  last 
the  visitors  stepped  ashore  at  the  Indian  village  and 
in  the  square  before  the  church  were  formally  wel- 
comed by  the  chief  of  the  tribe. 

On  the  following  day  Archbishop  Fabre  blessed 
the  first  Catholic  Church  to  be  opened  in  Vancouver, 
were  decades  earlier  French  voyageurs  of  the  Com- 
pany and  Indians  had  worshipped  at  woodland 
shrines  erected  by  Father  Demers  and  Father  Blan- 
chet. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  the  party  went 
by  steamboat  to  Victoria.  They  found  the  city  in 
mourning,  the  Palace  and  Cathedral  draped  in  black 
— news  having  just  come  in  from  the  north  that 
Archbishop  Seghers,  the  head  of  the  diocese,  had  been 
murdered  in  November  of  the  previous  year  by  his 
servant  whilst  travelling  on  mission  work  in  the  Yu- 
kon District. 

On  their  homeward  way,  as  the  train  passed  Cal- 


316 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1888 


gary  again,  the  party  regretfully  took  leave  of  their 
“dear  Indian,”  Father  Lacombe,  who  picked  up  the 
threads  of  his  work  refreshed  by  the  holiday. 

Toward  the  close  of  this  year  Father  Lacombe  was 
again  compelled  to  take  to  the  road.  Like  a soldier 
he  travelled  with  light  knapsacks  and  never  required 
long  marching-orders. 

On  this  occasion  he  was  asked  by  his  bishop  to  ac- 
company him  on  a tour  of  the  Eastern  States,  where 
in  the  French-Canadian  parishes  and  elsewhere  they 
might  beg  alms  for  their  missions.  Even  to  Father 
Lacombe’s  “holy  audacity,”  as  his  ecclesiastical 
friends  in  Quebec  termed  it,  this  mission  was  not  a 
pleasant  one:  to  Bishop  Grandin’s  exquisitely  sensi- 
tive spirit  it  was  one  long  trial  and  humiliation. 

In  several  parishes  they  were  welcomed,  in  others 
tolerated;  in  some  the  permission  to  preach  and  beg 
was  refused.  For  people — even  when  they  gave 
alms — occasionally  grumbled  at  the  incessant  calls  of 
missionaries,  and  their  pastors  felt  alike  their  own 
parochial  responsibilities  and  the  disinclination  of 
their  people. 

Father  Lacombe’s  letters  written  during  this  win- 
ter’s trip  show  plainly  his  difficulties — among  them 
the  disheartening  fact  that  his  oft-repeated  story  in 
broken  English  has  grown  thread-bare  and  uninter- 
esting to  himself — though  the  privations  of  his  fellow- 
missionaries  back  in  the  western  shacks  do  not  lessen. 

Writing  in  French  from  Philadelphia  on  March  22, 
1888,  to  his  friend  Father  Legal,  he  says  he  has 


1888 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


317 


just  returned  from  the  diocese  of  Baltimore  with 
$1,500: 

“.  . . But  what  work.  Mon  tres  cherl  I am  al- 

ways at  the  plough  with  letters,  newspaper  announcements, 
trips,  and  then — those  sennons! 

“Imagine  me  in  the  pulpit  of  one  of  these  grand  churches 
or  cathedrals  before  an  audience  of  priests  or  seminarists — 
and  then  saying  to  that  multitude : ‘My  dear  brethren,  I am 

only  a poor  Indian  missionary.  The  poor  must  have  the 
gospel  preached  to  them,  therefore  my  bishop  and  myself,  we 
come  to  make  an  appeal  to  your  liberality,’  and  so  on.  I as- 
sure you,  my  body  creaks,  as  I used  to  say  out  there.  I would 
be  discouraged  and  fail  to  know  how  to  continue  my  address 
— if  my  imagination  did  not  picture  to  me,  you,  my  brother- 
missionary at  your  work.  I take  heart  again  and  you  seem  to 
say : ‘Go  on ; we  are  praying  for  you.’  ” 

At  the  foot  of  this  letter  there  is  a little  note  for 
all  the  priests  in  the  delicate  handwriting  of  Bishop 
Grandin : 

“I  am  truly  desolate  because  of  the  illness  of  our  dear  Fa- 
ther Van  Tighen.  We  have  already  experienced  so  many 
trials  of  all  sorts  that  God  might  at  least  grant  health  to  us 
all.  Take  courage  however,  my  dear  Father.  If  you  suffer: 
if  you  have  difficulties,  remember  that  for  my  part  I have 
known  them  too — and  great  ones.  If  it  were  not  that  our 
cause  is  God’s  also  I would  despair  of  it. 

“I  embrace  you,  and  bless  you  all, 
“Your  affectionate  brother, 
“Vital,  O.  M.  I.” 

This  characteristic  note  illustrates  one  source  of  the 
inspiration  of  the  wonderful  work  done  by  the  Oblate 


318 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1888 


missionaries  in  the  west — the  exhortations  and  sym- 
pathy of  their  chiefs  who  appreciated  just  how  heavy 
their  burdens  were,  because  they  had  first  borne  them 
all  themselves. 

Woonsocket,  Pawtucket,  and  Providence  are  can- 
vassed successfully,  but  F ather  Lacombe  is  beginning 
to  feel  the  infirmities  of  age.  He  complains  of  the 
heat  and  of  weakness  in  his  limbs.  . . . “These 

are  terrible  journeys  for  my  strength,  physical  and 
mental.” 

One  pleasant  feature  of  the  old  missionary’s  tour 
was  his  meeting  with  Mother  Katherine  Drexel,  of  the 
Philadelphia  Drexels,  who  had  consecrated  her  life 
and  fortune  to  the  uplift  of  the  Indian  and  negro. 
When  they  parted  F ather  Lacombe  was  richer  by  sev- 
eral hundred  dollars  given  by  the  nun  to  be  devoted 
to  hospital  work  among  the  Indians. 

It  was  also  while  at  Providence,  R.  I.,  this  year  that 
he  was  shown  a beautiful  private  home  and  estate 
which  had  been  donated  by  its  owner  as  a Home  for 
aged  and  orphans.  As  he  looked,  a vision  sprang 
up  before  Father  Lacombe,  and  remained  with  him 
for  years  till  he  saw  its  realization  in  the  Lacombe 
Home. 


X 


When  Father  Lacombe  at  last  returned  with 
$6,000  to  the  western  missions  he  found  plenty  of 
cares  awaiting  him.  Affairs  at  the  Bow  were  bien 
tristes  for  lack  of  money,  he  chronicled.  But  he  had 
the  happiness  of  playing  his  old  role  of  Lord  Bounti- 
ful. 

He  had  no  jurisdiction  over  the  money  collected. 
He  had,  however,  many  presents  for  his  friends — a 
bell  bought  in  Philadelphia  for  the  mission  at  Banff — 
an  ostentorium  for  Father  Van  Tighen — a Way  of 
the  Cross  for  Father  Blais — a magic  lantern  with 
New  Testament  pictures  for  Father  Leduc  and  his 
Indians;  while  for  Father  Legal  his  beggar  friend 
had  secured  a new  saddle,  a washing  machine,  four 
volumes  of  the  History  of  the  Church,  and  an  alarm 
clock! — which  luxuries  are  forwarded  to  the  young 
priest  amid  mutual  expressions  of  delight. 

Dividing  his  time  and  efforts  this  winter  between 
white  and  Indian  missions  in  the  south,  Father  La- 
combe finds  but  one  abiding  source  of  humour  in  the 
little  brick  Chateau  and  embryo  orchard  evolved  from 
next  to  nothing  at  Lethbridge  by  his  ingenious 
brother,  Father  Van  Tighen.  The  orchard,  which 
first  demonstrated  the  possibilities  of  horticulture  in 
Southern  Alberta,  and  the  Chateau  were  in  time  to 

619 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1889 


320 

win  a place  in  Southern  Alberta  records:  this  year 
they  only  afforded  material  for  Father  Lacombe  to 
tease  “that  dear  Father  Van  Tighen.” 

A visit  to  Edmonton  in  April,  1889,  found  him  so 
worn-out  that  he  collapsed  physically  and  was  or- 
dered to  bed  for  weeks,  where  he  lay  planning  new 
movements  in  the  interests  of  the  southern  tribes  and 
writing  long  letters  to  his  bishop  begging  him  not  to 
abandon  this  unsatisfactory  field,  as  pressing  needs 
elsewhere  urged  the  bishop  to  do. 

From  Edmonton  he  went  with  Bishop  Grandin  to 
St.  Boniface  to  attend  the  first  Provincial  Council 
of  western  Catholic  clergy.  This  met  in  Winnipeg 
on  July,  1889,  and  included  a celebration  of  the  sev- 
enty-first anniversary  of  the  arrival  of  Bishop  Pro- 
vencher  and  Father  Dumonlin.  Wfae^e  in  1818  there 
had  been  only  two  priests  there  were  now  one  Arch- 
bishop, five  Bishops,  and  one  hundred  and  twenty-six 
priests  together  with  numerous  consecrated  workers. 

The  Lieutenant-Governors  of  Manitoba  and  of  the 
Northwest  attended  the  first  public  session  of  the 
Council.  Father  Lacombe  was  named  promoter  of 
the  convention,  and  it  continued  from  July  14th  to 
July  24th,  with  sessions  public  and  private  and  sol- 
emn religious  services. 

That  autumn,  as  Superintendent  of  the  district  his 
confreres  assembled  about  him  in  Macleod  for  their 
annual  retreat.  He  writes  that  they  not  only  have 
a lay-brother  to  cook  for  them  this  year  and  attend 
to  their  wants,  but  this  factotum  is  Brother  Jean,  a 


Group  Inside  Fort  Edmonton,  in  the  Eighties 


1889 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


321 


most  capable  man.  The  veteran  chronicles  with  de- 
light that  at  last  they  are  going  to  make  a retreat 
en  messieurs — like  gentlemen. 

On  October  12  Lord  Stanley  the  Governor  Gen- 
eral visited  Macleod  and  the  carriage  of  Capt.  Mc- 
Donnell, N.  W.  M.  P.  was  sent  on  His  Excellency’s 
request  to  bring  Father  Lacombe  to  meet  him. 
The  missionary  writes  Father  Legal  that  they  con- 
versed for  an  hour  in  French,  Father  Lacombe 
speaking  to  His  Excellency  very  frankly  about  school 
matters  and  the  inadequacy  of  certain  Indian  officials. 

Apart  from  this  the  picture  his  letter  contains  of  a 
western  reception  to  Vice-royalty  in  the  eighties  is 
not  captivating: 

“ Yesterday  the  Governor  arrived.  I was  there  with  a few 
others.  Little  enthusiasm — the  good  people  of  Macleod  were 
occupied  with  drinking.  What  a race  of  people ! what  rude- 
ness ! . . . But  our  mission-bell  rang  out,  beside  the  pa- 

vilion. 

“Last  night  at  nine — was  His  Excellency’s  levee  in  the  City 
Hall.  Fiasco  and  failure  ! We  were  about  a score  of  people, 
two  priests  and  Reverend  Mr.  Hilton.  . . . What  a 

triste  affair.  But  there  were  four  ladies  deshabilees — among 
them  Mrs. , who  as  we  passed  out  with  the  Governor  com- 

menced to  leap  about  like  a dameuse.  His  Excellency  will 
have  a grand  idea  of  the  people  of  Macleod.” 


In  Christmas  week  Father  Lacombe  received  a let- 
ter which  was  a fresh  evidence  of  the  regard  of  a man 
whose  friendship  has  been  marked  by  a series  of  grace- 


322 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1889 


ful  acts.  The  letter  enclosed  a railway  pass  over  the 
whole  system  of  the  Canadian  Pacific. 

‘‘Montreal,  December  22 , 1889. 

“Dear  Father  Lacombe : 

“We  are  still  following  you  wherever  you  go,  with  our  rails 
and  locomotives,  and  it  is  possible  that  you  will  hear  our 
whistle  at  Macleod  before  the  end  of  the  coming  year. 

“I  send  you  herewith  a little  charm  against  railway  con- 
ductors, which  you  may  find  useful  since  you  cannot  get 
beyond  their  reach. 

“With  best  wishes  for  your  good  health  and  long  life, 

“Believe  me, 

“Faithfully  yours, 

“W.  C.  Van  Horne.” 

Twenty  years  after  this  Pass  had  been  received 
Father  Lacombe  still  fingered  affectionately  the  letter 
that  accompanied  it,  while  he  said  with  tender  gravity 
that  trembled  with  tears  at  the  end: 

“He  wrote  it  himself.  . . . You  see,  why  I 

love  that  man  different  from  the  others — he  is  him- 
self different.  He  has  not  only  his  genius,  his  brain, 
but  he  has  a heart;  that  is  more  rare.  See,  he  wrote 
this  letter  himself;  that  man — and  so  busy.  But  it 
was  always  so — he  has  been  beautiful  in  the  little 
things  of  Life.  . . . Ah,  Omimi,  I love  that  man 

— he  is  the  brother  of  my  heart.” 

The  old  priest’s  heart  was  both  responsive  and  ac- 
tively affectionate,  yet  he  could  be  stern,  too,  when 
the  occasion  arose,  and  one  record  of  it  shows  not 


1890 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


323 


alone  his  sternness  but  his  unsurpassed  perception  of 
the  Indian  character  and  how  to  influence  it  for  the 
best.  This  concerns  five  Indian  Metis,  three  women 
and  two  men,  who  in  contact  with  low  whites  had  sunk 
as  low  as  mankind  can  sink  toward  the  animal  state, 
and  who  had  flouted  the  old  priest’s  appeals  to  lead 
more  decent  lives. 

On  March  16  he  concluded  a mission  at  Calgary 
for  all  the  Indians  and  Metis  of  the  neighbourhood. 
He  writes  to  Father  Legal  about  the  grand  closing 
demonstration — the  chanting  of  the  Te  Deum , the 
solemn  baptizing  of  nine  adult  Crees  who  had  been 
pagans,  and  the  marriage  of  three  couples.  “It  was 
all  touching,”  he  says;  then  adds: 

“On  the  eve  of  the  closing  I believed  it  my  duty  to  make  a 
final  striking  coup  d’eclat.  I covered  the  altar  with  the 
funeral  pall  and  to  the  sound  of  funeral  knells  tolling  I de- 
nounced and  excommunicated  five  public  sinners — three 
women,  two  men — after  which  we  recited  the  Miserere , greatly 
impressing  and  astounding  the  whole  assembly.” 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  indecent  degraded  lives  of  the 
five  were  in  any  way  altered  by  these  thunders  of  the 
Church,  but  the  ceremonies  certainly  exercised  a most 
wholesome  influence  on  some  of  their  brethren  who 
were  tempted  to  join  them  on  the  soiled  primrose  path 
of  frontier  Calgary’s  underworld. 

In  April  of  this  year,  1890,  Crowfoot  lay  down  his 
sceptre  of  native  power,  named  his  brother  Three 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1890 


324 

Bulls  his  successor,  and  met  death  with  brave  serenity 
befitting  an  Ancient. 

His  funeral  was  a striking  compromise  between  the 
ways  of  the  pagan  and  the  Christian,  for  though 
Crowfoot  had  lived  an  avowed  pagan  he  had  died  a 
professing  Christian,  and  two  days  before  his  death 
he  asked  Father  Doucet  to  baptize  him  and  receive 
him  into  the  fold  of  the  Church. 

Shortly  before  his  death  his  people  shot  his  favour- 
ite pony  before  the  tepee  in  accordance  with  pagan 
rites,  but  at  the  last  Father  Doucet  chanted  the  pray- 
ers for  the  dead  by  the  open  grave. 

With  Crowfoot  the  last  of  the  great  Indians  of  the 
plains  passed  into  history. 

In  June  as  a deserved  holiday  Father  Lacombe 
took  Father  Legal  and  Father  Doucet  to  visit  Sechelt, 
an  Indian  village  north  of  Vancouver.  The  visit  was 
made  during  the  annual  religious  Congress  of  the 
Pacific  Indians,  where  the  tribes  of  Sechelt,  Squam- 
ish,  Sycannis,  Lilloet,  Chilcotin,  Stickeen,  Cariboo, 
Douglas,  Stuart’s  Lake,  and  Fraser  River  met  to- 
gether accompanied  by  their  missionaries. 

Many  of  the  Indians  who  had  come  out  from  the 
interior  now  looked  upon  steamboats  and  railways  for 
the  first  time.  Others  of  a newer  generation  came 
from  Indian  schools  and  brought  brass  bands  with 
them. 

The  ninth  or  closing  day  of  the  Congress  fell  as 
planned  on  Corpus  Christi  and  was  marked  by  a pro- 
cession. Its  start  was  prefaced  by  the  booming  of 


1890 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


325 


cannons  and  it  was  accompanied  along  a flower-strewn 
way  by  alternate  music  of  bands  and  chanting  of 
Indian  choirs.  The  procession  came  to  a close 
with  a Calvary-tableau  on  the  hill  overlooking  the 
village. 

At  night  a torchlight  procession  moved  through  the 
village  streets  like  the  current  of  a river  in  flames; 
and  the  intermingling  of  music  and  chanting  of 
prayers  in  the  quiet  evening  beside  the  Pacific  was 
beyond  words  beautiful. 

The  missionaries  of  the  plains  returned  home  over 
the  mountains  with  a fresh  impulse  to  work  for  their 
less  promising  Blackfeet.  Father  Lacombe  immedi- 
ately directed  his  activities  toward  promoting  French- 
Canadian  colonies  in  the  Saskatchewan  valley. 

Up  and  down  the  old  province  of  Quebec,  across 
the  border  into  the  Eastern  States  the  stalwart  vet- 
eran travelled  preaching  his  doctrine  of  the  new  land, 
free  farms  and  openings  for  young  men.  “On  the 
road  all  the  time,”  he  reports  early  in  September  to 
his  friend  among  the  Bloods.  “Yesterday  I came  up 
from  below  Quebec  stopping  only  at  the  bishop’s.  I 
shall  soon  go  again  to  Rimouski — Ca  c'est  un  com- 
merce!” 

A week  later  he  and  Bishop  Grandin  are  at  Ottawa 
pressing  their  claims  concerning  Indian  schools. 
Among  the  requests  he  urges  upon  the  Minister  of  the 
Interior  is  the  establishment  of  a hospital  for  In- 
dians on  the  Blood  Reserve.  It  is  not  a new  request: 
he  is  merely  renewing  his  petitions,  as  men  sooner  or 


326 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1890 


later  learned  this  amiable,  iron-willed  old  man  would 
do — until  he  obtained  what  he  sought. 

“V ous  savez  que  je  suis  un  homme  a plans!”  . . . 
A man  of  plans,  indeed ; he  might  have  said,  a man  of 
accomplishments. 

In  October  he  wrote  a brief  rapturous  note  an- 
nouncing to  Father  Legal  that  at  last  he  has  been  able 
though  the  charity  of  friends  to  buy  two  small  organs 
which  he  says  stand  as  an  evidence  of  his  own  au- 
dacity. “Of  course,  there  is  one  for  Your  Reverence, 
and  one  for  Father  Foisy ; metis,  mon  tres  clier,  how  I 
have  wanted  for  a long  time  to  get  one  of  these  organs 
for  you!” 

On  each  of  his  trips  to  Montreal  in  the  eighties 
Father  Lacombe  used  to  renew  his  pleasant  friend- 
ship with  Sir  William  Van  Horne,  Sir  George  Ste- 
phen and  Sir  Donald  Smith,  and  dining  one  day  at 
the  home  of  the  last-named,  with  other  magnates  of 
the  C.  P.  R.,  he  first  met  “Lord  and  Lady  Aberdeen 
arriving  from  Scotland.” 

This  I note,  because  it  marked  the  beginning  of 
another  very  pleasant  acquaintance  which  was  to 
ripen  into  a warm  friendship.  For  the  Scotch  peer 
and  his  wife  were  immediately  taken  with  a person- 
ality that  combined  intellectual  and  human  interest 
in  the  most  picturesque  fashion;  while  with  Father 
Lacombe  their  ready  kindness  and  outspoken  regard 
won  his  responsive  liking  as  readily  as  the  sun  drew 
up  dew  from  the  heart  of  his  own  prairie-roses. 

These  visits  to  old  friends  in  the  east  formed  some 


1890 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


327 


of  the  many  bright  hours  of  his  work-a-day  trips,  but 
on  the  whole  he  was  wearied — “overwhelmed  with 
occupations,”  he  says — and  he  confides  to  Father  Le- 
gal his  growing  hope  that  on  his  return  the  bishop 
will  let  him  build  a house  in  the  quiet  foothills  at 
Fincher  Creek,  to  retire  there  as  to  a hermitage. 

His  memory  and  notebooks  were  as  usual  crowded 
with  commissions  for  his  fellow-priests  and  other 
friends — calls  to  be  made  on  relatives;  favours  to  be 
secured;  lonely  Metis  children  in  Eastern  schools  to 
be  called  upon;  pathetic  petitions  for  necessities  in  the 
shabby  missions.  And  like  a big  brother  who  goes 
out  into  the  world  he  was  only  happy  when  he  could 
return  laden  with  gifts  and  affectionate  messages  for 
his  brethren.  . . . It  is  noteworthy  that  he  never 

kept  anything  of  all  the  gifts  for  himself! 

On  his  return  to  the  west  he  spent  some  time  vis- 
iting the  reserves.  Writing  to  his  bishop  in  Decem- 
ber he  ascribes  the  Blackfeet’s  tenacious  paganism  to 
their  pride : 

“Of  an  inveterate — I could  say — an  innate  pride, 
they  have  no  conception  of  the  virtue  of  humility,  nor 
any  words  in  their  tongue  to  express  it.  The  Black- 
foot  will  never  say  he  is  a sinner  nor  humble  himself. 
On  the  contrary,  from  the  chief  and  warriors — proud 
and  superb  in  manner — down  to  the  child  beginning 
to  shape  a bow,  the  continuous  refrain  upon  their  per- 
sonal goodness  is  the  same.  . . . But  God  with- 

draws Himself  from  the  proud  of  heart  and  draws 
near  the  humble.  . . .” 


328 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1891 


A further  reason  for  their  stand  against  Christi- 
anity, he  finds,  is  their  determined  practice  of  polyg- 
amy. Even  at  this  period  the  warriors  maintained 
the  right  to  their  old-time  prairie  harems,  and  a girl’s 
parents  would  sell  her  at  the  age  of  ten  years  to  a 
grown  man  selecting  her  as  a future  wife.  Crowfoot 
was  an  exception  to  the  Blackfoot  rule  of  polygamy: 
like  the  Head-Chief  Sweet-Grass  and  unlike  his  lesser 
followers  he  was  satisfied  with  one  wife.  And  these 
two  chiefs  were  noted  for  wisdom  in  their  tribes. 

For  the  past  seven  years  Father  Lacombe’s  letters 
have  reflected  his  anxieties  about  various  Indian  school 
boys.  Now  in  February  of  1891  he  has  the  most 
serious  case  of  all  to  speak  about — a young  brave, 
Peter,  who  was  accused  of  helping  to  steal  horses  at 
Medicine  Flat.  The  boy  cried  so  pitifully  before  he 
was  taken  off  to  gaol  that  Father  Lacombe  decided 
“I  must  go  and  do  my  possible  with  Judge  Macleod” 
— and  with  everyone  else  in  authority  to  secure  clem- 
ency for  the  poor  boy.  . . . 

For  how  was  Peter  to  quite  grasp  the  doctrine  that 
what  was  glory  in  the  days  of  the  youth  of  Crowfoot 
and  Sweet-Grass  was  crime  in  his? 

Father  Lacombe  set  out  on  his  mission  of  mercy 
with  such  pleasure  in  the  act  of  benevolence  that  the 
onlooker  is  set  to  wonder  which  is  dearer  to  Father 
Lacombe — the  wrong-doer  who  throws  himself  upon 
his  mercy,  or  the  charitable  friend  who  opens  sym- 
pathies and  purse  to  meet  the  needs  of  his  beloved 
missions?  Either  class  has  a strong  hold  upon  his 


1891 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


329 


affections — but  the  balance  of  favour  lies  perhaps  with 
the  friendless  sinner — no  matter  what  his  crime. 

And  for  this  reason  the  man  of  despair,  divining 
the  old  priest’s  sympathy,  always  made  a sanctuary 
of  him. 

In  April  Father  Lacombe  together  with  Father 
Legal  drove  from  the  Blood  reserve  into  Montana  to 
visit  the  southern  Piegans  near  Two  Medicine  River. 
They  ministered  to  these  allies  of  the  Blackfeet,  vis- 
ited the  Agency  and  dined  at  the  cafe  of  Joe  Kipp 
of  border-fame.  On  the  return  trip,  losing  the  trail 
in  a storm,  they  found  shelter  at  night  in  the  home  of 
one  of  the  numerous  Mormon  settlers  then  coming 
in  to  Southern  Alberta. 

In  November,  when  he  was  again  planning  his 
retirement  to  the  Hermitage,  Father  Lacombe  went 
instead  to  Montreal  on  the  bishop’s  request  to  repre- 
sent St.  Albert  diocese  at  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of 
the  Oblates’  arrival  in  Canada. 

Father  Lacombe’s  stay  in  the  east,  although  a 
busy  one,  was  not  without  social  pleasure.  Among 
clergy  and  laity  his  unusual  personality  and  powers 
as  a raconteur  exercised  their  charm,  and  his  com- 
pany was  still  sought  after  by  leading  men  in  Mon- 
treal and  Ottawa,  who  had  seen  the  rich  nature 
behind  the  humble  exterior  of  the  old  plainsman. 

At  Ottawa  he  dined  with  Sir  Adolphe  Caron,  with 
Sir  John  Thompson,  and  others  of  his  friends  among 
the  “gros  bonnets  ” 1 At  Montreal  he  was  enter- 

i Big  Hats — an  Indian  term  for  Chiefs. 


330 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1892 


tained  by  Sir  William  Van  Horne,  James  Ross,  and 
others  prominent  in  Canadian  finance  and  public  life. 

He  was  always  sensitive  to  genuine  social  charm 
and  of  one  evening  and  host  he  writes  this  charming 
tribute : 

“Last  Saturday  I dined  with  my  good  friend  Van  Horne  in 
company  with  several  ‘gros  bonnets The  evening  was  a 
veritable  triumph  of  refinement  and  amiability 

Whilst  in  Montreal  he  was  presented  with  a very 
fine  Italian  painting  1 by  the  directors  of  the  Cana- 
dian Pacific  Railway.  In  the  pleasing  presentation 
which  took  place  in  the  President’s  office,  Father  La- 
combe  recognized  again  the  charming  thought  and 
temperament  of  his  old  friend. 

On  January  8rd,  1892,  he  writes  from  Montreal 
to  Father  Legal  that  he  is  “encumbered  with  business 
and  commissions.  Ah,  I have  need  of  a frame  of 
iron,”  is  the  note  of  complaint  with  which  he  concludes 
the  letter.  He  is  evidently  tired  and  his  years  are 
telling  on  him. 

Some  portion  of  his  weariness  may  be  due  to  the 
fact  that  he  was  greatly  discouraged  in  his  efforts  to 
procure  the  hospital  for  southern  Indians  which  had 
been  practically  promised  to  him  a year  earlier  at 
Calgary  by  the  Hon.  Mr.  Dewdney. 

The  prospects  at  Ottawa  now  were  not  promising 
and  Father  Lacombe  appealed  again  and  again  to 
the  Hon.  Mr.  Dewdney  and  the  Hon.  Mayne  Daly — 

i This  painting  still  hangs  over  the  high  altar  of  St.  Mary’s,  Calgary. 


1892 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


331 


the  latter  one  of  the  few  politicians  whom  Father  La- 
combe  credited  with  a serious  sense  of  responsibility 
toward  the  child-races  of  the  plains,  and  a practical 
sympathy  with  their  needs. 

He  urged  upon  the  two  the  truth  that  privations 
and  lack  of  food  had  weakened  the  Indians  and  that 
new  diseases  were  coming  among  them  from  the 
whites.  He  begged  them  to  build  a hospital  on 
the  Blood  Reserve  as  an  experiment. 

A letter  written  by  him  on  F ebruary  8th  to  F ather 
Legal  shows  him  utterly  disheartened,  for  the  Hon. 
Mr.  Dewdney  had  brought  him  to  Premier  Abbott 
and  he  was  told  by  the  latter  that  the  hospital  would 
have  to  wait  another  year  or  two  . . . there  sim- 

ply were  no  funds  for  it. 

At  the  announcement  Father  Lacombe  saw  his  air- 
castles  on  the  Blood  Reserve  shattered  at  his  feet; 
dazed  with  disappointment  he  looked  from  one  to  an- 
other of  the  “gros  bonnets ” . . . then  broke  out 

with  the  eloquence  of  his  despair. 

The  eloquence  and  disappointment  combined  so 
moved  the  politicians  that  on  March  9th  Father  La- 
combe could  write  jubilantly  to  his  western  corre- 
spondent : 

“ Dear  Father: 

“Thank  God  with  me!  Yesterday  I had  an  interview  with 
Dewdney,  who  was  very  amiable.  His  first  words  to  me  were : 
‘Father,  your  Hospital  is  granted;  I have  got  the  money  for 
you.’  My  heart  beat  hard:  I was  so  surprised  and  so 
glad.  . . .” 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1892 


332 

He  then  goes  into  details  about  the  grant,  urging 
Father  Legal  to  hasten  to  make  a plan  for  the  build- 
ing: for  the  young  Breton  had  added  the  architect’s 
craft  to  his  other  accomplishments  since  he  arrived  in 
Alberta.  . . . He  continues: 

“Now,  my  dear  Father  and  friend  of  many  days,  we  must 
move  heaven  and  earth  to  make  a success  of  our  famous  en- 
terprise. 6If  you  are  successful,’  said  Mr.  Dewdney  to  me, 
4I  assure  you  we  will  make  similar  establishments  on  other  Re- 
serves.5 It  is  also  intended  that  the  hospital  shall  be  con- 
structed beside  your  house.  I am  weeping  for  joy  of  it;  I 
am  so  happy.  4 Quid  retribuam  Domino V Quick,  make  me 
a nice  plan.55 

This  was  all  for  which  he  had  waited;  a few  days 
later  he  set  off  for  the  west  with  twenty-six  cases  of 
baggage  and  supplies  he  had  purchased  or  received 
as  gifts  for  the  missions  of  the  diocese. 


XI 


The  east  being  still  unaware  of  the  resources  of 
western  Canada,  it  was  the  policy  of  the  C.  P.  R.  to 
invite  leading  men  to  visit  the  west  as  their  guests. 
The  directors  realized  that  every  visitor  seeing  would 
believe  and  return  an  apostle  of  the  New  West. 

Consequently  on  May  16  a party  of  ecclesiastics 
left  Montreal  in  two  special  cars,  placed  by  the  presi- 
dent at  Father  Lacombe’s  disposal.  At  St.  Boniface 
Archbishop  Tache  joined  the  party,  which  then  in- 
cluded the  Archbishop  of  Ottawa,  Father  Lacombe, 
Bishop  Lafleche  who  had  been  Tache’s  companion  in 
the  forties  at  Isle  a la  Crosse,  Bishop  Grouard  of  the 
Athabasca-Mackenzie  district,  Bishop  Macdonald  of 
Alexandria,  Bishop  Brondel  of  Helena,  Montana, 
Bishop  Lorrain  of  Pembroke,  the  Rector  of  Ottawa 
University,  fourteen  priests,  Judge  Routher  of  Que- 
bec and  M.  des  Cases. 

At  St.  Boniface,  Regina,  Prince  Albert,  where 
Archbishop  Tache  blessed  the  corner-stone  of  a new 
Cathedral,  and  at  Calgary  their  reception  was  “a  suc- 
cession of  fetes.”  Calgary  extended  a civic  reception 
and  a public  dinner  to  the  visitors,  the  music  being 
provided  by  an  Indian  band  from  the  school  where 
eight  years  earlier  Father  Lacombe  had  brought  his 
group  of  young  savages  to  be  trained. 

333 


384* 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1892 


From  Calgary  the  route  led  to  Edmonton,  and  St. 
Albert,  and  thence  to  British  Columbia  where  at  St. 
Mary’s,  the  Canadian  Oberammergau,  they  saw  the 
Passion  Play  religiously  enacted  by  Indians. 

This  was  the  most  picturesque  incident  of  their  trip. 
On  their  arrival  they  found  seven  tribes  of  Indians 
encamped  in  a beautiful  plain  beside  the  Fraser. 
Greeted  with  a cannon’s  booming  and  the  roar  of 
musketry  from  hundreds  of  Indians  lined  up  to  wel- 
come them,  the  entrance  of  the  ecclesiastics  in  the 
valley  was  one  of  semi-royal  splendour. 

The  Passion  was  protrayed  in  eight  tableaux  by 
Indians  garbed  as  Jews  and  Romans.  Throughout 
the  tableaux  the  Indian  multitude  kept  up  a mournful 
chanting,  but  at  the  last  scene  a solemn  hush  fell  on 
the  valley  . . . then  one  by  one  the  chiefs  of  the 

tribes  rose  and  called  out  in  a loud  voice: 

“The  Christ  is  dead — -the  Christ  is  dead!” 

That  evening  the  seven  tribes  again  assembled  on 
the  hill  in  an  immense  tent,  where  the  Bishop  of  New 
Westminster  officiated  at  a solemn  benediction  and 
the  evening  air  was  melodious  with  the  chanting  of 
hundreds  of  Indians;  while  on  the  plain  beneath  as 
darkness  fell,  the  camp-fire  before  each  ghostly  white 
skin  lodge  made  human  spots  of  warmth  and  colour 
in  the  moonlit  valley,  which  was  itself  a divine  etching 
in  black  and  silver. 

By  the  middle  of  June  the  “Car  of  Israel,”  as  the 
private  coach  had  been  named,  returned  to  St.  Boni- 


1893 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


335 


face,  and  Father  Lacombe’s  famous  personally-con- 
ducted tour  was  at  an  end. 

In  July  our  Hermit  went  to  his  hermitage,  ex- 
pressing a firm  intention  to  remain  there.  On  Sep- 
tember 16th  he  writes: 

“To  avoid  being  tempted  to  make  voyages  I have  sent  my 
horses  to  Mr.  Gravel.  That  is  what  they  call  ‘burning  one’s 
ships’ !” 

And  so  having  banished  Badger — the  successor  of 
his  good  ponies,  Buckskin  and  Buckshot — he  felt  him- 
self bound  to  stay  at  home  and  rest,  to  compose 
his  mind  and  meditate  on  Eternity  as  he  desired  to 
do  in  preparation  for  the  end. 

The  first  interruption  to  his  days  of  contemplation 
came  in  December.  He  writes  to  Father  Legal  that 
Bishop  Grandin  had  to  go  east  on  business  and  needs 
him:  and  he  feels  he  must  go.  He  does  not  add — 
what  was  probably  true — that  the  solitude  of  his  her- 
mitage had  begun  to  pall  upon  him. 

In  the  east  he  began  a search  for  volunteer-nurses 
for  the  Indian  Hospital  now  nearing  completion. 
He  found  that  the  Superiors  of  convents  were  un- 
willing to  let  their  nuns  go  for  hospital  work  among 
Indians  with  such  a reputation  for  bloodthirstiness 
and  dislike  for  the  tenets  of  Christianity. 

Telling  the  story  of  his  efforts  decades  after  he 
said  of  the  Superior-General  of  the  Grey  Nuns: 

‘‘Perhaps  that  good  Mother  could  not  spare  her 
nuns,  or — as  people  said — she  was  afraid  to  send  her 


336 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1893 


young  Sisters  among  the  wild  Bloods ; for  a Hospital 
you  know,  was  not  the  same  as  a school  for  young 
children.  But  anyway,  me — I was  vexed,  and  I say 
— ‘Tres  bien , for  fifty  years  we  Oblates  and  you  Grey 
Nuns  have  work  side  by  side  in  the  west  to  see  which 
can  do  the  most  good.  Now  you  would  stop  here — 
Then  Good-bye/  I said,  and  I went  away  not  pleased 
— me! 

“At  St.  Hyacinthe,  at  Ottawa,  at  Quebec  I went 
to  the  convents,  and  it  was  always  the  same : the  Supe- 
riors refused.  I was  losing  all  my  courage. 

“Then  at  Nicolet,  where  I went  to  see  the  Bishop 
on  some  other  affairs,  I told  him  of  my  disappoint- 
ment— it  was  at  last  becoming  my  despair. 

“Next  day  the  Superior  of  that  Nicolet  Convent 
sent  word  to  me  that  if  any  of  her  Sisters  would  vol- 
unteer themselves  for  the  Hospital,  she  was  willing  to 
let  them  go.  . . . Ah,  that  was  joy  for  me — I 

cannot  tell  you  how  great.  . . . Four  Sisters 

came ; more  would  have  come  if  I had  need  of  more — 
ah,  ces  cheres  Princesses !” 

“I  have  told  these  nuns  I am  going  to  ennoble  them 
and  call  them  Princesses  of  Charity/’  he  wrote  in  his 
enthusiasm  to  Father  Legal,  and  east  and  west  the 
old  man  sang  the  praises  of  his  dear  Princesses,  as  the 
Nicolet  nuns  were  for  several  years  known  in  church- 
circles  of  the  west. 

While  in  the  east  he  also  secured  from  his  friends 
at  the  Canadian  Pacific  offices  a tri-weekly  mail-serv- 
ice for  Macleod  instead  of  the  weekly  arrangement 


1893 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


337 


planned  by  the  road,  and  he  tells  as  a choice  bit  of 
news  to  his  friend  that  the  C.  P.  R.  will  shortly  build 
a line  up  into  the  Crow’s  Nest  Pass. 

He  dines  with  his  old  friend,  Edouard  Fabre — now 
Archbishop  of  Montreal — on  February  28,  the  anni- 
versary of  the  birth  of  each;  and  he  chronicles  the 
delight  they  felt  in  recalling  the  good  old  days.  But 
his  mind  is  more  heartily  in  touch  with  the  needs  of 
the  present,  and  the  same  letter  that  notes  the  re- 
union with  Edouard  Fabre  announces  happily  that 
the  Superiors  of  eight  more  colleges  and  four  convents 
have  each  agreed  to  take  a bright  pupil  from  the  west- 
ern reserves  and  educate  them  free  of  charge. 

Before  returning  to  the  west  Father  Lacombe  par- 
ticipated in  an  interesting  occasion,  which  was  at  the 
time  recorded  in  The  Empire  of  Toronto  in  the  fol- 
lowing despatch  of  January  22nd  from  Ottawa: 

“It  was  an  historic  scene  which  was  enacted  yesterday  in 
the  Privy  Council  Chamber  here — historic  because  for  the 
first  time  in  the  history  of  the  Dominion  an  appeal  was  be- 
ing heard  by  the  Governor-in-Council  under  the  provisions 
of  Section  93  of  the  Confederation  Act.  Following  the  pre- 
cedent set  by  the  sub-committee  of  the  Privy  Council  which 
heard  the  preliminary  argument,  the  proceedings  yesterday 
were  open  to  the  public.  Every  leading  newspaper  in  the 
Dominion  had  its  representative  present,  while  about  a dozen 
gentlemen  represented  the  great  Canadian  public.  Among 
the  more  notable  outsiders  present  were  Rev.  Father  Lacombe, 
the  famous  N.  W.  missionary.  . . .” 


338 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1893 


This  morsel  of  parliamentary  correspondence  is  in- 
dicative of  the  new  phase  of  public  life  that  had  opened 
before  Father  Lacombe.  The  Canadian  Government 
was  confronting  a grave  constitutional  question  which 
for  years  was  to  engage  the  keenest  wits  of  Canada’s 
publicists,  and  through  the  long-drawn-out  battle  it 
entailed  the  two  commanding  figures  always  were  the 
statesman-prelate  of  St.  Boniface  and  his  indomitable 
lieutenant,  our  old  veteran  of  the  plains. 

The  question  had  been  precipitated  into  the  polit- 
ical arena  by  the  ambitions  of  certain  politicians  in 
Manitoba,  assisted  by  Dalton  McCarthy  who  was  still 
burning  with  resentment  at  the  passage  of  the  Jesuit 
Estates’  Bill  and  the  failure  of  Sir  John  Macdonald 
to  appoint  him  Minister  of  Justice.  The  case  was 
kept  open  no  less  by  the  working  of  political  intrigue 
than  by  the  resolute  convictions  and  principles 
roused  in  the  opposing  masses.  Canada  divided  on 
the  question ; political  reputations  were  made  and  un- 
made in  the  “grand  lutte  ” as  Father  Lacombe  was 
wont  to  term  it;  one  government  was  thrown  out  of 
power  and  another  elevated  by  reason  of  it — and  in 
more  ways  than  one  the  Manitoba  School  question  im- 
pressed itself  deeply  upon  the  political  history  of  Can- 
ada. 

The  agitation  had  begun  in  1889,  when  the  new 
Greenway  administration  resolved  to  abolish  Sepa- 
rate Schools  in  Manitoba,  and  carried  legislation  to 
this  effect.  This  was  not  only  a subversion  of  a sys- 
tem that  had  existed  for  seventy  years — or  since  the 


1893 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


339 


stately  Provencher  at  St.  Boniface  opened  the  first 
schools  of  the  Canadian  West:  it  was  also  in  direct 
contravention  of  the  rights  in  educational  matters  as- 
sured to  the  Catholic  minority  by  the  Manitoba  Act 
of  1870. 

The  Manitoba  minority  held  the  universal  claim 
of  their  co-religionists  to  direct  the  schools  maintained 
by  their  own  taxes,  to  select  text-books  for  use  therein, 
and  to  provide  moral  training  based  upon  religious 
instruction.  These  claims  are  not  ordinarily  objec- 
tionable to  politicians  of  any  creed,  if  the  majority  of 
voters  in  a community  hold  these  views.  When,  how- 
ever, separate-school  rate-payers  are  in  the  minority 
— by  the  laws  of  opportunism  that  control  the  average 
politicians — the  claims  of  the  separate-school  advo- 
cate are  most  reprehensible. 

Manitoba  politicians  seized  upon  defects  in  the 
training  and  qualifications  of  separate-school  teachers 
to  condemn  the  whole  system.  Archbishop  Tache 
and  his  school-boards  growing  aware  of  the  defects, 
had  resolved  to  improve  conditions,  but  their  oppor- 
tunity was  now  gone. 

Leading  his  people  in  an  agitation  for  their  rights 
the  Archbishop  cited  not  only  the  Manitoba  Act,  but 
the  British  North  America  Act — the  Constitution  of 
the  Dominion — as  providing  protection  for  the  minor- 
ity and  guaranteeing  separate-school  rights.  His 
party  instanced  the  generous  treatment  of  the  Prot- 
estant minority  in  Quebec:  they  appealed  to  a sense 
of  common  justice  for  the  inalienable  right  of  the  re- 


340 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1893 


spectable  parent  to  educate  his  child  wheresoever  he 
would  if  he  were  himself  willing  to  pay  for  it. 

But  as  nothing  they  said  made  any  impression  upon 
the  provincial  authorities  Tache’s  party  carried  their 
grievance  to  Ottawa.  They  brought  test -cases  in  the 
courts  and  these  were  finally  carried  to  the  Privy 
Council  where  the  aggrieved  party  lost. 

The  Haultain  administration  of  the  Northwest 
Territories,  taking  a leaf  out  of  Manitoba’s  book,  in 
turn  deprived  the  minority  of  their  old  school  rights. 
The  work  was  done  with  a finer  hand  than  in  Mani- 
toba, the  leader  being  a man  of  much  political  finesse 
and  accomplishment;  the  results  were  similar. 

Petitions  for  relief  now  poured  in  from  the  west 
to  the  Ottawa  Government,  but  with  Sir  John  Mac- 
donald dead  and  his  party  groping  for  such  another 
tactician  and  leader,  the  time  was  unpropitious  for 
decision:  particularly  as  the  Manitoba  Government 
was  now  shielding  itself  behind  a new  cry — Provin- 
cial Rights. 

Echoes  of  the  discussion  rose  on  all  sides  and  the 
question,  regarded  by  Ottawa’s  politicians  * as  their 
sorest  affliction,  gradually  assumed  national  propor- 
tions. On  one  side  were  the  Catholics  of  the  west 
led  by  the  Archbishop  of  St.  Boniface  and  his  minis- 
ter plenipotentiary,  supported  by  all  the  Catholics  of 
Eastern  Canada.  On  the  other  hand  were  the  Mani- 
toba Government  and  a majority  of  western  Prot- 
estants backed  by  the  entire  element  in  Canada  which 
aproximates  to  the  non-Conformists  in  England. 


1893 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


341 


It  was  with  small  hope  of  any  immediate  settlement 
that  Father  Lacombe  returned  home  in  1893,  confi- 
dent he  would  soon  have  to  come  east  again  and  take 
further  steps  in  the  campaign. 

On  his  return  he  received  a charmingly  playful  let- 
ter from  his  old  friend  at  St.  Boniface,  whose  redoubt- 
able spirit  could  still  be  gay,  although  he  describes 
himself  as  an  “infirm  old  man,”  and  the  sufferings 
from  his  disease  have  become  so  grave  that  he  knows 
himself  to  be  in  the  Valley  of  Shadows. 

The  letter  was  in  reply  to  one  Father  Lacombe  had 
written  announcing  his  resumption  of  the  life  of  a 
Hermit,  with  his  unanswerable  argument  of  eOn  est 
Ermite  ou  on  ne  Vest  pas'  (One  is  a Hermit  or 
one  is  not ) — the  inference  being  that  he  was  a Hermit 
because  he  desired  to  be  and  said  he  was,  tout  simple- 
ment.  Whether  or  not  the  exigencies  of  his  work 
drove  him  to  unceasing  travels,  that  fact  was  not  to 
be  permitted  to  upset  his  claim. 

The  aged  Archbishop  meets  his  friend’s  views  play- 
fully, but  with  an  undercurrent  of  seriousness  that 
suggests  his  own  next  cloister  will  be  the  tomb.  The 
letter,  which  is  replete  with  a delicious  humour,  suf- 
fers in  the  translation. 

The  Archbishop  first  professes  his  desire  to  be  a 
hermit,  too;  then  says: 

“In  the  depths  of  solitude  and  silence  I salute  you  by  the 
watchword  of  your  new  Institution,  ‘Brother,  one  is  a Hermit 
or  one  is  not.’  So  since  we  may  no  longer  mix  ourselves  in 
the  things  of  this  world  I return  Mr.  Reed’s  letter  to  you. 


34,2 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1893 


I am  even  going  to  make  my  adieux  to  Monseigneur  Durieu, 
who  will  not  forego  his  existence  on  the  agitated  sea  of  the 
world.  In  the  fear  that  his  example  might  mislead  me,  the 
Inspirer  of  our  isolation  yesterday  enveloped  all  visible  Na- 
ture in  a white  shroud,  an  image  of  that  which  we  will  take 
at  the  gateway  of  our  cloister,  to  indicate  that  nothing  pro- 
fane or  soiled  should  enter  within  that  Sanctuary,  or  that  at 
least  if  one  enters  there  with  stains  one  must  live  without 
spot  ( tache ) to  become  a dove  ( colombe ).  This  last  word, 
is  it  not  merely  an  evolution  from  lacombe? 

“Yes,  brother,  one  is  a Hermit  or  one  is  not,  and  as  we 
are  hermits,  let  us  separate  to  unite  again  in  the  Lord. 

“I  commit  you  to  God,  Brother,  till  we  meet  again, 
“Brother  Alexander  of  the 

“Observance  of  Pincher  Creek.” 

On  May  14th,  Father  Lacombe  writes  from  his 
new  Hermitage.  Now  for  the  first  time  appears  on 
his  letters  the  rubber  stamp — “Ermitage  de  St. 
Michel ” ; he  is  determined  to  give  his  hermitage  an 
air  of  permanency.  He  writes  to  Father  Legal: 

“Me  voila — again  a Hermit.  I wish  that  those  wags  who 
will  not  take  my  position  seriously  could  see  into  my  Hermit- 
age for  a little  while  to-day — Sunday.  Alone  on  the  top  of 
my  hill  with  my  dog  and  my  cat  again,  I say  to  myself,  ‘It 
is  so  one  is  a Hermit!’  I go  into  church  to  visit  my  one 
neighbour,  who  is  also  my  kind  Saviour,  and  I repeat  the 
prayers  and  the  office  of  hermits.  Ah,  wags,  you  who  say 
there  are  no  hermits  now ! Erudemini  . . . fdii  homi- 

num” 

About  the  same  time  he  writes  that  he  is  expecting 


1893 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


343 


a visit  from  his  friend  Sir  William  Van  Horne,  who 
had  lately  written  repeating  his  protests  against  the 
proposed  retirement  of  Father  Lacombe: 

“When  it  is  given  to  one  like  you  to  kindle  the  love  and 
reverence  of  everybody  you  meet,  is  it  right  that  you  should 
bury  yourself  in  a Hermitage?  Surely  not.” 

Sir  William  need  not  have  feared  that  the  delight- 
ful old  plainsman  would  be  lost  to  his  friends.  He 
was  a Hermit:  assuredly — had  he  not  proclaimed  the 
fact  throughout  the  Dominion?  But  his  friends  were 
not  to  lose  him;  for  he  was  a Hermit — who  would  not 
stay  at  home. 

He  finds  the  modern  Hermit  cannot  live  in  a grotto 
on  figs  and  water.  Like  many  another  missionary- 
priest  he  learns  again  the  cares  of  housekeeping,  for 
there  is  no  lay-brother  to  spare  for  this  mission,  and 
when  a niece  who  was  with  him  leaves  to  return  east 
he  has  the  greatest  difficulty  in  getting  someone  to 
come  in  from  time  to  time  to  keep  his  house  orderly. 
He  grumbles:  “This  business  of  doing  the  cooking 
does  not  agree  with  me.” 

Perhaps  the  cooking  or  the  quiet  or  the  loneliness 
palled  upon  him,  for  when  in  June  he  received  a tele- 
gram from  his  old  Alma  Mater  at  L’Assomption — 
“Pere  Lacombe  required  for  our  feast  without  fail” 
— he  goes  without  demur,  to  the  joys  of  the  open 
road  and  the  jeers  of  his  younger  brethren. 

After  the  College  feast  lie  went  to  Ottawa  and 
arranged  with  Mr.  Daly  to  formally  open  the  hos- 


344 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1893 


pital  that  summer,  then  on  to  Nicolet  where  he  saw 
“those  dear  Princesses”  bid  a tremulous  farewell  to 
their  quiet  convent  and  sister  nuns.  A few  days 
later  he  followed  them  to  the  west. 

The  autumn  finds  him  quietly  settled  at  the  Her- 
mitage— rested  and  content  although  very  poor. 
He  has  to  meet  some  of  his  debts  by  selling  his  horse 
and  the  heavy  waggon  at  the  mission. 


XII 


Early  in  the  New  Year  of  1894  he  was  called  to 
St.  Boniface.  The  Archbishop,  with  sufficient 
trouble  for  one  human  frame  in  the  grave  disease  he 
was  battling,  had  set  himself  to  meet  a fresh  crisis 
in  the  School  Question  as  determinedly  as  forty  years 
before  he  had  reversed  his  Superior’s  order  to  aban- 
don the  western  missions. 

Physically  unable  to  carry  on  any  negotiations  at 
Ottawa  now,  he  turned  all  active  work  over  to  F ather 
Lacombe,  and  in  the  fulfilment  of  this  mission  laid 
on  him  by  his  ailing  friend — statesmen,  prelates  and 
laity  were  to  come  equally  under  the  influence  of  the 
presuasive  old  man  who  knew  but  one  cry,  “Give  us 
back  our  rights  in  our  Schools!” 

Since  the  repeated  efforts  of  the  Archbishop  and 
his  party  to  secure  remedial  measures  had  been  un- 
availing the  Archbishop’s  next  step  was  to  secure 
the  formal  co-operation  of  all  his  brother-prelates  in 
Canada,  and  it  was  for  this  delicate  mission  that  he 
had  again  called  upon  his  old  Hermit. 

Father  Lacombe  brought  the  Archbishop’s  latest 
and  most  notable  Memorial  on  the  School  Question 
to  Montreal  and  had  it  published  there.  On  April 

345 


346 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1894 


1st  he  writes  to  Father  Legal  that  the  Bishops  have 
all  agreed  to  unite  with  Tache  in  demanding  the  res- 
toration of  their  school  rights.  He  continues : 

“Imagine,  I leave  to-morrow  evening  for  St.  Boniface  with 
the  Bishop  of  Valle jfield  and  secretary.  I have  seen  all  the 
Bishops  of  Quebec,  and  with  Bishop  Grandin  have  prevailed 
upon  Their  Lordships  to  make  our  cause  their  own.  Done , 
they  all  desire,  and  will  regard  as  their  doyen  the  Archbishop 
of  St.  Boniface.  It  has  been  decided  that  Bishop  Emard 
will  be  charged  with  this  important  mission  to  go  in  the  name 
of  his  colleagues  and  carry  their  kindest  wishes  to  Archbishop 
Tache  and  convey  their  sympathy  with  him,  asking  him  what 
should  be  done  uno  consensu ; to  decide  too  upon  a plan  of 
campaign  and  some  form  of  agitation  to  compel,  by  public 
demand,  the  authorities  to  render  justice  to  us.  I have  just 
come  from  Ottawa  with  Bishop  Grandin.  We  met  there  the 
Bishop  of  Montreal  and  Bishop  Emard.  C'est  serieux.  The 
Memoir,  of  which  I have  had  thousands  of  copies  printed  in 
French  and  English  is  making  a sensation.  It  is  a thunder- 
bolt to  the  Government. 

“McIntosh  and  Haultain  are  at  Ottawa.  The  frightened 
Ministry  would  wish  to  make  them  give  way,  but  they  will 
not,  seeing  that  they  have  already  been  supported  against  us.” 

The  petition  now  forwarded  to  Ottawa  was  signed 
by  thirty-one  prelates  and  was  a wide  and  statesman- 
like appeal  for  justice.  The  document  was  pre- 
sented by  Father  Lacombe  in  person. 

From  the  serious  tone  of  the  resultant  Order  in 
Council  it  would  seem  to  have  impressed  the  Govern- 
ment more  than  any  previous  effort  of  the  Catholic 


1894 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


347 


party:  but  whatever  the  plans  and  policy  of  the  gov- 
erning party  this  year  they  were  upset  by  the  tragi- 
cally sudden  death  of  the  Prime  Minister — Sir  John 
Thompson — in  December  at  Windsor  Castle. 
Rumours  of  definite  remedial  action  began  to  take 
shape  however. 

Occasional  pleasures  marked  Father  Lacombe’s 
stay  in  the  East,  but  it  was  for  the  most  part  fa- 
tiguing, and  he  sighed  for  his  hermitage.  He  writes 
Father  Legal  on  May  20th  from  St.  Boniface: 

“Dear  Friend, — How  I have  hastened  my  return.  How 
tired  and  worried  I am  with  this  commerce!  Twenty-four 
hours  before  leaving  Montreal  I received  a telegraph  from 
Archbishop  Tache  and  the  Superior-General  asking  me  not  to 
leave  before  I received  their  letters.  Et  puis,  all  the  same  I 
came  away.” 

He  did  not  go  directly  to  his  Hermitage  then  how- 
ever. 

At  St.  Boniface  he  was  asked  to  accompany  the 
Superior-General  who  had  come  from  France  on  a 
tour  of  the  western  missions,  and  he  complied  with 
pleasure,  for  he  was  always  finely  susceptible  to  the 
company  of  persons  dowered  in  heart  and  intellect. 
These  he  found  united  in  the  commanding  person  of 
Father  Soullier,  their  Superior-General. 

While  at  Kamloops  on  June  21,  Father  Lacombe 
received  word  of  the  serious  form  Archbishop  T ache’s 
illness  had  taken,  and  of  the  operation  performed 
in  the  hope  of  saving  his  life.  . . . The  follow- 

ing day  he  was  informed  of  the  Archbishop’s  death. 


848 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1894 


His  sense  of  loss  and  grief  was  acute,  for  while 
Archbishop  Tache  was  widely  accounted  a great  man 
and  a good  one — to  his  colleagues  who  knew  him  best 
the  Archbishop  was  their  Well-Beloved,  their  little 
General. 

Time  has  given  him  his  rank  as  one  of  the  noblest 
figures  in  Canadian  history:  a man  commanding  re- 
spect alike  from  the  man  of  the  world  and  the  man 
of  the  sanctuary. 

• ••••••• 

“Here  I am  so  lonesome — ennuye  bien  gros. 
What  an  undertaking  to  have  come  here!  But  let 
us  stop — this  is  not  to  recite  to  you  my  Jeremiads, 
but  to  talk  about  that  man  who  was  drowned  with 
his  horses  crossing  the  Kootenay — a lay-brother  here, 
French-Canadian,  fears  it  may  be  his  brother  who 
was  coming  from  Montana  to  select  a farm  in  Al- 
berta. . . 

It  is  our  delightfully  human  old  missionary  who 
in  August,  1894,  writes  this  plaint  from  Edmonton 
where  he  has  been  called  as  pastor  of  St.  Joachim’s 
Church.  His  heart  is  not  in  the  task  or  the  place. 
“What  a post  for  my  white  hairs!”  . . . “It  is 
the  hotel  of  the  diocese,”  he  says  of  his  new  residence 
— with  a continual  stream  of  callers,  lay  and  clerical, 
going  to  and  from  St.  Albert  or  the  northern  mis- 
sions. There  are  no  Indians  under  his  care,  and  his 
heart  is  crying  out  for  the  obdurate  Blackfeet  on 
the  wide  southern  plains  and  his  Hermitage  in  the 
foothills. 


1894 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


349 


Edmonton,  notwithstanding  Father  Lacombe’s 
grumbling,  was  now  a town  of  some  life  and  aspira- 
tion. The  extension  of  the  railway  from  Calgary 
had  put  new  energy  into  the  frontier  settlement. 
By  the  construction  of  this  line  the  old  stage  route 
was  thrown  into  disuse  and  the  park-country  of  the 
north  opened  to  settlement.  As  in  the  past  Father 
Lacombe’s  information  had  largely  assisted 1 the 
engineers  selecting  the  route  for  the  road  and  on  its 
completion  Van  Horne  sent  a request  to  him  for  ap- 
propriate names  for  the  new  villages  springing  up 
along  the  line.  Wetaskiwin,  Ponoka,  Otaskawan 
were  among  the  names  he  gave,  while  others  like 
Lacombe,  Leduc  and  Hobbema  were  chosen  by  Sir 
William,  who  as  a connoisseur  in  men  and  art  at  one 
stroke  placed  on  the  map  of  the  west  the  names  of 
two  pioneers  and  an  artist  whose  works  he  admired. 

Despite  his  grumbling  Father  Lacombe  soon  grew 
accustomed  to  modern  Edmonton.  By  Christmas 
he  had  put  down  some  roots  in  his  new  abode.  He 
was  having  a good  rectory  built;  a hospital  to  be 
maintained  by  the  Grey  Nuns  was  under  way,  and 

1 “.  . . The  Company  was  indebted  to  him  for  very  much  useful 

information  concerning  the  western  prairies  and  the  various  mountain 
passes  and  his  information  was  more  exact  and*  valuable  than  that  of 
anybody  else.  He  not  only  knew  the  country  intimately  but  he  had 
a wonderful  faculty  for  describing  it  so  that  one  could  see  it  vividly. 
I remember  well  his  description  later  on  of  the  country  between  Cal- 
gary and  Edmonton  when  the  railway  there  was  contemplated.  This 
description  left  no  exploratory  work  for  the  engineers  to  do — they  knew 
just  where  the  line  should  be  laid.” — Letter  from  Sir  William  Van  Horne 
to  the  author,  March  9,  1910. 


350 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1895 


he  begins  to  be  absorbed  in  new  interests.  There  are 
no  complaints  or  longings  for  the  south.  He  has 
again  made  a place  for  himself  in  this  Edmonton, 
which  he  knew  before  it  was  an  Edmonton,  but  which 
with  its  strange  faces  he  sorrowfully  felt  had  small 
welcome  for  the  old  pioneer  when  he  first  returned. 

In  Christmas  week  he  writes  to  Father  Legal  that 
he  is  now  living  in  his  new  “palace.”  The  Govern- 
ment has  given  him  a telephone;  the  City  has  placed 
an  electric  light  before  his  door.  He  surveys  life 
with  equanimity.  Another  of  the  Old  Guard,  he 
notes,  has  retired.  After  half  a century  of  devoted 
work  and  subsistence  on  dried  meat  and  fish  and  a 
meagre  menu  generally  his  old  Superior  of  Lac  Ste. 
Anne  is  enjoying  the  rest  and  physical  comforts  of 
St.  Albert.  Father  Lacombe’s  nimble  mind  seizes  on 
the  facts  and  thus  sums  them  up  deliciously  for 
Father  Legal — 

“Pere  Remas  is  in  absolute  retirement  at  St.  Al- 
bert’s, like  a rat  in  a cheese .” 

To  Father  Lacombe  staying  “for  penance”  at  Ed- 
monton “the  great  Question  of  the  hour,”  as  he  now 
calls  it,  is  to  redeem  the  poorer  class  of  Metis  before 
it  is  too  late.  To  this  end  he  initiates  a new  work 
in  which  he  will  go  and  seek  them  in  the  highways 
and  byways  of  the  west.  His  voice  must  reach  the 
dilapidated  shacks  on  the  outskirts  of  towns  and  vil- 
lages and  call  thence  those  becoming  morally,  phys- 
ically and  financially,  the  lame,  the  halt  and  the 
weaklings  of  the  west. 


The  Blending  of  the  Old  and  New  at  Edmonton 


1895 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


351 


Then,  he  plans  to  turn  to  the  discouraged  and  un- 
skilled half-breeds  on  poor  farms,  where  they  are 
endeavouring  to  stifle  the  blood’s  call  for  the  gun  and 
trap  in  order  that  they  may  accustom  their  hands 
to  the  ploughshare  and  make  a decent  living  for  the 
always  numerous  progeny. 

From  the  one  place  and  the  other  their  old  shep- 
herd, who  had  known  and  loved  the  Metis  in  their 
Golden  Age,  would  now  gather  them  into  some  fer- 
tile corner  of  the  west,  remote  from  the  influence 
of  white  men,  their  liquor  and  their  scorn.  Instruc- 
tion in  farming  and  the  elementary  trades  will  be 
given  his  Metis  there,  implements  be  provided  for 
them:  he  will  create  a Metis  Utopia! 

This  plan  had  been  taking  shape  in  his  mind  for 
some  time,  and  during  the  past  two  years,  he  had 
repeatedly  urged  the  Government  at  Ottawa  to 
grant  sufficient  land  for  the  purpose.  The  tre- 
mendous earnestness  of  the  old  missionary  had  its 
effect.  Lord  and  Lady  Aberdeen,  who  were  now 
the  vice-regal  representatives  in  Canada  and  whose 
guest  he  was  on  each  visit  to  the  east,  were  early 
won  to  his  belief  in  the  plan.  Sir  Mackenzie 
Bowell  listening  one  day  to  his  ardent  advocacy,  ex- 
claimed : 

“Your  plan  is  an  act  of  Christianity  for  you:  for 
us  it  would  be  an  act  of  patriotism.” 

Now  in  1895  Father  Lacombe  resolved  to  make  a 
supreme  effort  to  realize  his  scheme.  He  wrote  to 
Bishop  Grandin: 


352 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1895 


“We,  the  old  missionaries  must  not  forget  what  we  have 
done  for  the  Metis  and  what  they  have  done  for  us.  For 
their  fine  attachment  and  devotion  gives  them  a right  to  our 
affections  still,  notwithstanding  the  demoralization  of  a great 
number.  Let  me  expend  what  physical  force  and  energy  re- 
mains to  me  in  labouring  for  this  undertaking  with  which  God 
has  inspired  me,  and  in  which  I have  faith.  It  seems  to  me 
that  Providence  has  preserved  to  me,  at  my  advanced  age, 
such  measure  of  health  as  I have  simply  that  I may  under- 
take and  carry  through  this  work  which  to  others  may  ap- 
pear impossible  and  absurd.” 

Bishop  Grandin  was  doubtful  of  the  result,  but 
he  could  not  withhold  his  consent  to  that  plea,  quali- 
fying it,  however,  with  a warning: 

“Go,  and  may  God  bless  your  zeal,  but  remem- 
ber if  to-day  is  a Palm  Sunday,  there  will  soon  be 
a Good  Friday.” 

The  warning  fell  on  deaf  ears:  nothing  could 
dampen  Father  Lacombe’s  ardour. 

In  February,  1895,  he  went  east  to  St.  Boniface 
for  the  consecration  of  Archbishop  Langevin,  the 
successor  of  Archbishop  Tache,  and  from  there  to 
Ottawa.  Here  he  received  such  encouragement  in 
his  plan  that  he  felt  justified  in  instructing  two  ca- 
pable brethren,  Father  Therien  and  Father  Morin, 
to  go  and  look  for  a site  for  his  colony  in  the  vicinity 
of  his  old  mission  of  St.  Paul  de  Cris,  north  of  the 
North  Saskatchewan. 

A letter  to  the  Hon.  A.  C.  La  Riviere,  M.  P., 
written  by  Father  Lacombe  whilst  journeying  east, 


1895 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


353 


indicates  how  strongly  he  was  preoccupied  with  his 
plans  to  uplift  the  Metis: 

“On  the  shores  of  Lake  Superior 
“On  the  Railway, 

“19th  February,  1895. 

“ Very  dear  old  friend: 

“Seated  in  a royal  palace  car  of  the  Pacific,  meditating  on 
the  things  of  the  past — of  the  Great  Past,  and  dreaming  of 
what  the  future  may  have  in  store  for  us  I am  assailed  by  a 
thousand  thoughts  which  flutter  through  my  head  like  a flight 
of  birds. 

“I  think  of  my  benefactors  so  numerous  and  so  generous, 
and  I pray  for  them.  I think  especially  of  that  King  of 
the  Canadian  Pacific,  Van  Horne,  my  brother  by  adoption, 
who  has  done  so  much  for  our  country  and  for  our  mis- 
sionaries. 

“But  above  all  the  souvenirs,  happy  and  sad,  of  le  bon 
vieux  temps , above  all  my  pre-occupation  with  the  future, 
hovers  one  thought  which  little  by  little  is  absorbing  my  mind 
entirely.  Now  I wish  to  make  of  the  realization  of  this  idea 
— of  this  dream,  as  some  may  perhaps  maliciously  call  it — 
the  business  of  the  remainder  of  my  poor  life  as  a mission- 
ary. 

“The  Latins  said  that  they  feared  the  man  who  read  but 
one  book.  Timeo  Inominem  unius  libri.  Moi , I have  but  one 
plan,  one  supreme  plan  and  that  is  to  secure  to  one  unhappy 
race  a place  of  peace  and  of  sweet  prosperity.  . . .” 

He  refers  then  to  letters  enclosed,  addressed  to 
himself  by  some  Metis — “naive  letters  full  of  con- 
fidence,” asking  him  to  help  them  get  a bit  of  land 
to  farm.  These  he  says,  are  but  some  of  many  let- 


354 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1895 


ters  received  from  Metis  in  Montana  and  the  Ca- 
nadian west;  while  a prominent  westerner  has  just 
written  asking  him  to  look  after  other  Metis  who 
are  in  a very  bad  way. 

Father  Lacombe  concluded  his  letter  by  telling 
Mr.  La  Riviere  that  there  were  at  least  8,000  Metis 
in  the  west,  most  of  them  poor,  many  of  them  de- 
moralized. They  were  undoubtedly  in  a bad  way, 
but,  their  venerable  advocate  insisted  that  traders, 
missionaries,  and  the  white  race  generally  owed  them 
a real  debt  for  their  diplomatic  services  with  the  In- 
dians in  the  opening  days  of  the  white  man’s  era. 
They  were  kind  and  grandly  hospitable  then — would 
the  Government  not  be  hospitable  to  these  poor  un- 
fortunates now? 

It  was  in  this  way  Father  Lacombe  approached 
anyone  and  everyone  who  could  possibly  influence  the 
Canadian  Government  to  grant  his  request. 

When  he  arrived  in  Ottawa  he  found  the  School 
Question  in  a fresh  ferment.  Archbishop  Tache  was 
dead,  but  the  war  he  had  planned  went  on.  At  last 
the  Government  understood  that  the  Catholics  of  all 
Canada  were  supporting  the  western  minority  in 
their  demand  for  a restoration  of  their  schools,  and 
realized  the  need  of  action. 

Father  Lacombe  wrote  in  March  to  Father  Legal : 

“How  big  and  hot  this  school  question  becomes.  We  have 
reached  a most  critical  moment.  Truly  it  is  little  reassuring. 
Our  adversaries,  obstinate  enemies  armed  with  falsehood,  cal- 
umny and  ruse,  are  achieving  the  impossible  to  obscure  the 


1895 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


855 


question  and  gain  their  cause — which  is  that  of  Satan.  What 
is  going  to  happen  in  the  face  of  such  opposition?  Is  the 
Government  going  to  resign?  Will  they  hold  a session?  Or 
will  they  make  an  appeal  to  the  electorate?” 

Again : 

“The  School  Question  of  Manitoba  will  not  be  settled  for 
a good  length  of  time.  It  is  true  that  an  Order-in-Council 
is  going  to  be  adopted,  sent  to  the  legislature  of  Manitoba 
and  doubtless  will  be  respected  there. 

“But  when  will  this  Remedial  Ordinance  be  proclaimed 
law,  if  the  parliament  is  dissolved  and  an  appeal  is  made  to 
the  public?  I have  talked  so  much  to-day  that  I am  tired  to 
death.  . . .” 

The  Remedial  Order  was  passed  by  the  Council 
on  March  21st,  but  to  become  effective  it  had  still 
to  make  its  way  through  Parliament. 

Father  Lacombe  returned  west  in  April,  but  the 
summer  found  him  again  in  Ottawa  together  with 
the  Mayor  of  Edmonton  delegated  to  secure  a bridge 
across  the  Saskatchewan  at  Edmonton.  The  rail- 
way terminated  in  the  meadows  across  the  river  and 
as  the  directors  would  not  incur  the  expense  of  a 
bridge  to  go  into  Edmonton,  and  the  village  grown 
up  from  the  old  trading-post  would  not  move  over 
the  river  to  the  railway,  matters  between  the  two 
stood  at  an  impasse.  An  uncertain  ferry  solved  the 
problem  fairly  at  some  seasons,  but  these  circum- 
stances naturally  hampered  the  growth  of  Edmon- 
ton: while  its  towns-folk  maintained  a rebellious  at- 


356 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1895 


titude  toward  the  Government  and  railway  company. 

Various  demands  sent  by  them  to  Ottawa  for  re- 
lief were  disregarded,  for  Edmonton’s  pioneers,  a 
splendid  group  of  Old-Timers,  were  more  versed  in 
Indian-trading  and  horse-racing  than  in  diplomacy. 
Notably  in  1893  they  had  defied  a departmental  or- 
der to  move  the  Government  Land  Office  across  the 
river  and  after  an  exciting  comic-opera  insurrection 
with  a Home-Guard,  guns  and  Mounted  Police  in 
evidence — they  brought  the  Ottawa  Government  to 
terms.  All  of  which  was  soothing  to  local  pride,  but 
disastrous  to  the  hope  of  Government  grants. 

Now  in  1895  the  Town  Fathers  conceived  the  idea 
that  their  one  hope  lay  in  this  irresistible  old  mis- 
sionary-diplomat, who  had  a few  years  before  secured 
a grant  from  the  Government  for  a bridge  at  Cal- 
gary. Father  Lacombe  acquiesced  readily,  and  with 
the  Mayor  endeavoured  not  only  to  get  the  bridge, 
but  also  to  have  the  Calgary  and  Edmonton  line 
continued  across  the  river. 

In  the  discharge  of  his  mission  Father  Lacombe 
interviewed  the  new  Premier,  Sir  Mackenzie  Bo  well, 
Foster,  Daly,  Ouimet,  Sir  Charles  Tupper,  Sir  Wil- 
liam Van  Horne,  and  William  Whyte;  and  in  re- 
lation to  the  Calgary  and  Edmonton  he  approached 
the  leading  stockholders  in  Toronto  and  Winnipeg. 

He  was  readily  granted  the  bridge.  However,  one 
member  of  the  Government  who  had  no  personal 
cause  for  dislike  of  the  Edmontonians  of  that  day 
but  who  had  an  unqualified  distaste  for  their  methods 


1895 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


357 


of  doing  parliamentary  business,  confided  to  Father 
Lacombe  that  they  were  uncouth  and  buffoons. 

The  old  priest  kept  the  ministerial  comment  to 
himself  then,  though  it  is  likely  that  Edmonton  with 
its  generous  quota  of  western  independence  would 
have  cared  little  if  it  had  heard  the  remark.  The 
bridge  was  soon  built,  and  up  to  1912  this  monument 
to  Father  Lacombe’s  diplomacy  has  had  the  distinc- 
tion of  serving  Edmonton’s  needs  alone. 

During  this  visit  east  Father  Lacombe  also  secured 
a Government  grant  of  four  townships  of  land  for 
the  Metis  colony,  and  he  returned  home  shortly  after 
with  an  enthusiasm  and  light-heartedness  that 
laughed  at  his  sixty-eight  years. 

But  his  work  for  the  Metis  colony  had  only  be- 
gun: he  had  still  to  secure  funds  for  its  operation. 
By  letters  and  personal  visits  on  every  trip  he  made 
to  the  east  for  years  thereafter  the  old  missionary 
was  obliged  to  beg  for  money  to  help  his  Metis  with 
their  buildings  and  purchase  of  farm  implements. 

The  work  was  all  the  more  difficult  that  people 
generally  believed  the  plan  destined  to  fail. 

Many  of  his  brethren  laughed  at  the  plan.  To 
them  it  was  hopeless  to  make  the  half-breed  leave 
the  squalid  splendor  of  the  city’s  fringe  for  the 
prosaic  work  on  open  fields  at  St.  Paul  de  Metis. 
Some  papers,  opposition  organs,  naturally  attacked 
the  project  as  a misappropriation  of  Government 
lands  and  assistance  and  occasionally  referred  bit- 
terly to  Father  Lacombe. 


358 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1895 


It  would  be  useless  to  say  that  he  did  not  feel  all 
this  acutely — particularly  the  laughter  of  those  of 
his  friends  who  did  not  believe  in  the  scheme,  though 
they  vowed  they  loved  the  old  missionary  for  his 
great  heart  and  mistaken  zeal.  He  felt  the  hurt,  but 
he  was  not  in  any  way  deterred.  He  believed 
. . . that  was  sufficient. 

His  next  step  was  to  issue  a circular  letter  printed 
in  French,  English  and  Cree  calling  the  poorer  Metis 
to  take  shelter  in  his  new  colony.  His  letter  in  its 
solicitude  for  the  welfare  of  the  half-breeds  reveals 
with  what  poignancy  the  old  priest’s  mind  dwelt  on 
what  might  be  called  the  tragedy  of  civilizing  the  In- 
dian: the  gradual  degradation  of  this  child-race — 
brought  out  of  paganism  by  Christianity  as  taught 
— on  coming  into  contact  with  Christianity  as  prac- 
tised by  the  majority. 


XIII 


The  journey  to  Eastern  Canada  from  which  Father 
Lacombe  returned  in  August  was  the  second  he  had 
made  within  six  months,  yet  once  more  at  home  his 
feet  are  “burning”  to  take  him  away  again. 

Each  month  finds  him  in  a different  quarter  of 
Alberta,  and  at  the  New  Year,  1896,  he  is  in  Ottawa 
again  a minister  plenipotentiary  from  the  western 
Bishops  to  act  in  the  school  question.  The  moment 
was  opportune,  for  general  elections  were  approach- 
ing— and  governments  are  proverbially  impression- 
able before  general  elections. 

He  writes  on  January  9th: 

“ Very  dear  Father: 

“Where  are  we  now?  To  what  point  are  we  drifting? 
If  you  could  look  in  on  the  trouble,  the  anxiety,  and  all  that 
is  passing  at  this  moment  in  the  city  of  Ottawa  you  would 
be  astonished.  The  Conservative  Government  is  falling  to 
pieces.  The  question  of  the  Manitoba  Schools  is  more  and 
more  uncertain.  Each  day  brings  new  fears. 

“The  newspapers  have  already  told  you  of  the  embarrass- 
ment which  exists.  The  Bowell  Government  is  greatly  weak- 
ened by  the  defection  of  several  ministers  and  by  the 
unfavourable  results  of  bye-elections. 

“Sir  Mackenzie  Bowell,  my  friend,  whom  I regard  as  sin- 
cere and  who  is  going  to  fall  in  defending  us,  is  no  longer 

859 


360 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1896 


supported.  Things  are  going  badly.  Laurier — what  will 
he  do  when  he  arrives  in  power?  For  this  is  very  probable, 
unless  a re-organization  takes  place  with  the  formation  of  a 
new  cabinet  by  Tupper  as  leader  and  premier. 

“For  my  part,  I have  no  confidence  in  this  arrangement. 
Since  the  Conservative  party  has  come  to  this  point  and  as 
our  Catholic  people  show  themselves  so  indifferent  and  so  in- 
capable— C’est  egal — it  is  as  well  that  the  Liberals  should 
come  at  once  to  take  their  place. 

“How  tired  I am  with  all  this  bustle!  All  the  same,  not- 
withstanding my  occupations  and  pre-occupations  I do  not 
forget  you.  I have  seen  about  the  schools. 

“This  is  very  regrettable,  but  what  would  you  have  me  do? 
The  state  of  politics  here  does  us  an  injury.  My  plans  are 
all  upset.  This  throws  us  back  a year  at  least. 

The  day  before  yesterday  I dined  with  Sir  Mackenzie  Bowell. 
Truly  he  is  greatly  disgusted  with  the  state  of  affairs.  I 
think  that  he  will  perhaps  resign  to-day. 

“Attention.  . . . La,  the  trouble  will  commence  again 

— I tell  you — greater  than  ever.  I sigh  for  my  Hermitage. 
Is  it  possible  that  those  who  pretend  to  be  my  friends  plan 
only  to  separate  me  from  it!” 

A letter  he  wrote  about  this  time  to  Wilfrid 
Laurier,  the  French-Canadian  leader  of  the  Opposi- 
tion brought  a lively  squall  about  his  sturdy  self ; but 
he  was  equal  to  meeting  it.  This  letter  which  had 
been  sent  as  a private  communication  to  Laurier  had 
been — possibly  in  the  exigencies  of  politics — pub- 
lished in  full  and  with  unkind  comment  by  La  Presse , 
an  active  organ  of  the  Liberal  party  in  Quebec  at 
that  time. 


1896 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


361 


The  letter  to  Laurier  reads: 

“Montreal,  January  20,  1896 
“Hon.  Wilfrid  Laurier , M.P. , Ottawa: 

“My  Dear  Sir:  At  this  critical  moment  for  the  School 

Question  of  Manitoba,  permit  an  old  missionary,  to-day  the 
representative  of  the  Bishops  of  our  country  in  this  cause 
which  absorbs  the  thoughts  of  everyone— permit  me,  I ask,  to 
make  an  appeal  to  your  faith,  to  your  patriotism  and  to  your 
sense  of  justice  to  beg  you  to  comply  with  our  request.  It 
is  in  the  name  of  our  Bishops,  of  the  Hierarchy  and  of  Ca- 
nadian Catholics  that  we  demand  of  your  party,  of  which  you 
are  the  worthy  leader,  to  aid  us  in  settling  this  famous  ques- 
tion, and  to  do  this  by  voting  with  us  for  the  Remedial  Bill 
along  with  the  Government. 

“We  do  not  ask  you  to  vote  for  the  Government,  but  for 
the  Bill  which  will  restore  our  rights,  in  the  form  in  which 
it  will  be  presented  in  a few  days  in  the  House.  I consider, 
or  rather  we  all  consider,  that  this  act  of  courage,  of  good- 
will and  of  sincerity  on  your  part  and  of  those  who  follow 
your  policy,  will  be  greatly  in  the  interests  of  your  party, 
especially  at  the  time  of  the  general  elections. 

“I  must  add  that  we  could  not  accept  your  proposition  of 
a Commission  for  any  consideration,  and  we  shall  do  every- 
thing to  oppose  it.  If,  though  may  Heaven  prevent  this,  you 
do  not  feel  it  your  duty  to  meet  our  just  demand  and  that 
the  Government  which  desires  to  give  us  the  promised  legisla- 
tion should  be  beaten  and  overturned,  the  while  it  stands  true 
to  the  end  of  the  fight,  I must  inform  you  with  regret  that 
the  whole  episcopate — as  one  man — united  with  the  clergy 
will  rise  to  support  those  who  have  fallen  in  defending  us. 

“I  trust  you  may  pardon  my  frankness,  which  makes  me 
speak  in  this  way. 


362 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1896 


“Although  I am  not  an  intimate  friend  of  jours,  I may 
saj  that  we  have  always  been  on  good  terms.  I have  always 
regarded  you  as  a gentleman,  an  honourable  citizen  and  a 
clever  man,  qualified  to  be  at  the  head  of  a political  party.  I 
trust  that  Providence  may  sustain  your  courage  and  your 
energy  for  the  good  of  our  country. 

“I  remain  respectfully  and  very  sincerely, 

“Honourable  Sir, 

“Your  devoted  and  humble  servant, 

“A.  Lacombe,  O.  M.  I. 

“P.  S.  Some  members  of  your  party  reproach  me  for 
holding  aloof  from  you  and  ignoring  you.  You  have  too 
much  judgment  not  to  understand  my  position.  Having  no 
political  party  myself  I address  myself  to  those  who  have  been 
placed  by  the  people  at  the  head  of  affairs.  If  one  day  the 
voice  of  the  nation  calls  you  to  the  direction  of  public  affairs, 
I shall  be  loyal  to  you  and  have  confidence  in  you — as  I am 
to-day  to  those  who  are  opposing  you. 

“If  you  desire  to  see  me  and  to  have  any  further  explana- 
tions I shall  be  at  your  service  whenever  it  pleases  you  at  the 
University  of  Ottawa  or  at  your  private  office,  provided  that 
you  inform  me  of  the  hour  selected  by  you. 

“I  shall  be  at  Ottawa  on  the  23rd  to  remain  there  for  sev- 
eral days. 

“A.  L.,  0.  M.  I.” 

A despatch  sent  out  from  Ottawa  to  several  Op- 
position journals  on  February  21,  claimed  that  the 
significance  of  Father  Lacombe’s  letter  to  Laurier 
was  that  “this  old,  respected  and  confiding  and  de- 
ceived missionary  . . . has  been  used  as  an  in- 

termediary between  the  Dominion  Government  and 


1896 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


363 


the  Quebec  hierarchy.”  . . . The  letter,  it  states, 

is  a bold  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  clerical  forces 
to  intimidate  and  coerce  the  leader  of  the  Liberal 
party,  whom  they  “threaten  to  destroy  if  he  does  not 
come  to  the  support  of  the  position  taken  by  certain 
bishops  who  have  mismanaged  and  bedevilled  this 
subject  from  the  start.” 

This  despatch,  designed  like  scores  of  others  of 
this  period  to  make  political  capital  out  of  events, 
purports  to  be  well-disposed  to  Father  Lacombe.  It 
is  less  flattering  than  direct  attacks  however  in  mak- 
ing the  old  “confiding  and  deceived  missionary”  out 
to  be  a simpleton  and  a tool.  The  writer  ignores, 
or  is  ignorant  of  the  fact,  that  the  management  of 
the  School  campaign  from  the  start  lay  in  the  hands 
of  the  stateman-Archbishop  of  St.  Boniface  and  his 
lieutenant  and  counsellor,  Father  Lacombe.  And 
while  an  outcast,  foot-sore  and  shiftless,  could  readily 
impose  on  the  heart  of  the  latter — no  politician,  lay 
or  clerical,  could  ever  deceive  his  mind. 

Le  Journal , an  active  organ  of  the  Government 
party  now  as  in  duty  bound  in  the  political  campaign 
published  an  editorial  rebuking  La  Presse  and  those 
who  inspired  its  comment,  and  proceeded  to  interpret 
Father  Lacombe’s  letter  in  another  way  than  the  un- 
pleasant one  of  La  Presse.  Whereupon  Father  La- 
combe publicly  voiced  his  thanks  to  the  editor  of  the 
Journal,  and  this  went  to  swell  the  tide  of  journalistic 
literature  rising  about  the  School  Question  and 
everyone  engaged  in  the  contest: 


364 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1896 


“I  thank  you  for  the  interest  which  you  take  in  me.  It  is 
well ; you  explain  the  letter  as  it  should  be  explained. 

Thank  you.  I shall  see  you  soon  and  I shall  then  give  you 
certain  information  that  will  make  those  who  have  made  an 
ill-use  of  this  letter  blush. 

“Truly  I regret  that  La  Presse  has  forgotten  itself  in  such 
a manner.  It  harms  itself  more  than  me.  People  will  rec- 
ognize that  its  zeal  is  a sham  and  this  will  only  have  the  ef- 
fect of  damaging  its  arguments  against  ‘the  letter.’ 

“Since  my  friend,  Mr.  Laurier,  is  not  more  scrupulous  than 
this,  to  take  advantage  of  intimate  communications  sent  him 
in  the  interests  of  the  country’s  peace,  to  violate  my  confidence 
and  exploit  my  views  for  his  own  benefit,  by  means  of  journals 
which  live  upon  sensations : that  is  his  affair. 

“Those  who  cry  out  against  an  old  missionary,  who  has 
every  right  and  a definite  commission  to  aid  in  the  solution  of 
this  burning  question  of  the  schools,  let  them  reflect  a little 
and  give  me  credit  for  my  good  intentions  toward  the  Liberal 
chief  to  whom  I only  wish  to  do  good. 

“If  La  Presse  had  been  a witness  of  my  intimate  interviews 
recently  with  a man  whom  I consider  as  a noble  citizen  and 
worthy  of  being  the  head  of  a party,  this  sheet  would  have 
expressed  its  zeal  in  another  manner — How  can  people 
know  how  to  write  so  well,  yet  to  act  in  such  a disgraceful 
manner ! 

“For  your  part,  continue  to  defend  our  cause  with  courage. 
Say  to  those  who  read  your  articles  and  who  will  carry  the 
word  on  to  all  my  compatriots — that  we  will  go  right  to 
the  end.  We  have  decided  to  assist  those  who  to-day  have  the 
power  in  their  hands  in  order  that  justice  may  be  done  to  us. 
Those  who  wish  to  make  political  capital  out  of  this  question, 
I disown  them.  A solemn  moment  has  arrived. 


1896 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


365 


“To-day  after  five  years  of  suffering  on  the  part  of  an 
oppressed  minority,  which  I am  commissioned  to  defend,  I 
make  an  appeal  to  all  friends  of  Justice  no  matter  to  what 
party  they  belong,  and  I beg  them  in  the  name  of  patriotism 
and  honour  to  fall  into  line  on  our  side.  Is  it  not  simply 
this  that  I have  done  with  Mr.  Laurier  and  his  supporters  ? 

“Why  then  does  La  Presse  in  its  zeal  imply  to  me  such 
false  motives? 

“It  is  not  now  the  time  to  reply  to  that  journal  when  it 
questions  my  standing  with  the  Hierarchy.  For  the  present 
let  us  only  try  to  settle  this  question  of  the  Manitoba  Schools, 
and  to  this  end  let  all  intelligent  minds  lend  their  co-opera- 
tion in  what  is  an  act  of  justice  and  patriotism. 

“When  this  question  is  to  be  decided  then  may  the  nation 
recollect  itself  and  prepare  loyally  and  honourably  to  unite 
upon  the  field  of  combat,  where  once  again  people  will  give 
freely  and  conscientiously  their  votes  for  the  party  which 
should  govern  the  country. 

“As  an  old  missionary  accustomed  to  live  among  the  sav- 
age tribes  or  ministering  as  a priest  to  the  new  settlers  I am 
far  from  any  desire  to  claim  the  skill  of  politicians.  To  my 
great  regret,  circumstances  have  thrown  me  into  this  at- 
mosphere so  foreign  to  my  habits.  Only  obedience  and  duty 
can  sustain  me  in  the  midst  of  these  contradictions  which  I 
am  encountering.  . . 

The  attacks  made  by  various  papers  upon  Father 
Lacombe  finally  roused  the  Montreal  Witness , a 
paper  of  much  editorial  weight  in  the  nineties  and  one 
neither  Conservative  nor  Catholic,  to  enter  the  lists 
and  there  break  a lance  for  the  old  missionary — 
whose  figure  despite  its  inherent  sturdiness  presented 


366 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1896 


a pathetic  aspect  as  this  storm  of  abuse  broke  around 
him  in  public  and  private. 

Many  of  the  Liberal  party,  who  were  raising  the 
storm,  probably  did  honestly  believe  that  Father  La- 
combe  or  the  Hierarchy  behind  him,  was  using  the 
School  Question  as  an  instrument  to  aid  the  Con- 
servative party  in  the  approaching  elections.  In 
this,  however,  they  did  him  an  injustice.  His  one 
political  dogma  through  life  has  been  to  uphold  the 
party  in  power,  to  assist  it  in  its  administration — 
just  so  long  as  in  his  belief  it  was  acting  justly  and 
in  the  interests  of  the  people — as  he  saw  the  interests 
of  the  people.  There  was  an  official  opposition  to 
hackle  and  criticise  the  administration:  his  duty  as 
a non-partisan  was  to  uphold  it. 

When  it  was  no  longer  able  to  serve  the  peo- 
ple or  fit  to  govern  it — then  Red  or  Blue;  Grit  or 
Tory — he  wanted  to  see  its  departure  from  office 
hastened  and  the  new  brooms  set  in  motion.  . . . 

and  he  would  cry  right  heartily — “Le  Roi  est  mort: 
vive  le  Roi !” 

Nor  was  this  mere  opportunism  in  the  old  mission- 
ary. It  was  something  nearer  a high  ideal  of  pa- 
triotism. 

In  1896  he  desired  with  all  the  ardour  of  his 
vigorous  nature  that  the  Conservatives  should  be  re- 
turned to  power,  but  simply  because  of  their  exist- 
ing  pledges  to  grant  remedial  legislation  with  regard 
to  the  School  Question. 

The  tribute  of  the  Montreal  Witness  of  Febru- 


1896 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


367 


ary  26th,  1896,  first  narrates  the  various  services 
which  Father  Lacombe  had  rendered  the  country  as 
an  effective  police-chaplain  during  the  construction 
of  the  first  Canadian  transcontinental  road,  and  the 
esteem  in  which  he  was  held  by  prominent  and  dis- 
cerning men  in  Eastern  Canada.  It  continues : 

“Father  Lacombe  has  done  able  and  effectual  missionary 
work  amongst  the  Indians,  whose  fruit  is  seen  in  the  good 
order  which  prevails  amongst  them,  and  the  degree  of  civiliza- 
tion to  which  large  numbers  of  them  have  attained.  Apart 
from  this  aspect  of  his  work,  to  which  he  has  devoted  himself 
with  much  zeal,  he  has  never  been  indifferent  to  the  political 
outlook.  He  has  always  watched  the  trend  of  public  affairs 
with  much  interest,  and  it  is  undoubted  that  he  has  more  than 
once  influenced  legislation  in  directions  which  subserved  the 
interests  of  his  Church  as  a whole.  He  has  always  wielded 
power  at  Ottawa.  Having  laboured  successfully  to  improve 
Indians  and  keep  them  quiet,  it  has  probably  been  felt  that 
the  Government  owed  him  some  return.  At  all  events  he  has 
always  had  the  ear  of  those  in  power,  nor  have  any  of  his 
requests  been  denied. 

“He  is  an  able,  far-seeing  man,  of  keen  intellect,  and  he 
pursues  his  object,  whatever  it  may  be,  with  tireless  but  un- 
obtrusive persistency. 

“The  Good  Father  has  a store  of  reminiscences,  which,  if 
printed,  would  make  thrilling  reading.  He  has  spent  forty 
years  among  the  Indians,  turning  his  back  upon  civilization, 
and  seen  life  in  the  wild  in  curious  places.  When  he  comes 
back  to  the  asphalt  and  the  corner  policeman  and  finds  himself 
at  the  table  of  a friend,  the  genial  missionary  makes  demands 
upon  the  memory  and  tells  story  after  story  of  pioneer  life, 


368 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1896 


of  Indian  cunning  and  stoicism,  and  diplomacy  triumphing 
over  force  ...  of  humor  and  pathos  which  is  found  in 
all  relations  and  associations  of  life.  Ordinarily  he  is  reticent 
and  must  be  well  assured  that  he  can  trust  to  honour  before  he 
relaxes,  but  if  the  demand  be  made  upon  him  in  a happy  mo- 
ment the  old  missionary  becomes  a vivid  dramatist,  who  en- 
chants the  hearers  with  the  varied  incidents  of  a fruitful  ex- 
perience.” 

On  March  14th,  Father  Lacombe  writes  from 
Montreal  to  Father  Legal: 

“I  have  just  arrived,  very  tired,  from  Ottawa,  where  I have 
a trying  combat  to  sustain.  Who  would  credit  it?  Here 
am  I,  hurled  into  politics,  exposed  to  many  attacks  of  lies 
and  falsifying.  . . . Our  Question  of  the  schools  is  far 

from  being  decided.  Our  adversaries  are  making  an  infernal 
opposition,  especially  the  Liberals  of  Quebec  who  are  hypo- 
critically representing  themselves  as  more  Catholic  than  we 
are.  It  is  unbelievable  what  people  will  attempt  to  get  to 
power.” 

This  letter,  like  others  of  1896,  written  to  one  of  a 
small  group  of  very  intimate  friends,  is  significant 
of  Father  Lacombe’s  real  attitude  on  politics.  It 
was  a rather  unusual  outlook  for  one  who  had  come 
so  much  in  contact  with  politicans.  For  while  he  was 
somewhat  of  a politician,  he  was  nothing  of  a par- 
tisan, but  frankly  the  representative  of  the  Indians, 
the  Metis  and  the  Catholics  of  Western  Canada. 

He  regarded  the  Government  solely  as  the  public 
servant  of  the  country  rather  than  the  opponents  of 


1896 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


369 


the  “glorious  Reform  Party  that  had  given  Canada 
Constitutional  Government,”  or  the  upholders  of  the 
equally  “glorious  Conservative  Party  that  with  a pro- 
tective Tariff  had  made  Canada.” 

Notwithstanding  his  attitude  he  found  himself 
literally  embroiled  in  the  last  heated  struggles  of  a 
Govermnent  which  was  now — in  a desperate  hope  to 
save  itself — willing  to  grant  in  their  Remedial  Rill 
what  the  Catholics  of  Canada  had  demanded  for  five 
years  unavailingly.  Several  of  the  political  leaders 
had  all  the  time  professed  their  belief  in  the  justice  of 
the  minority’s  claims,  although  they  did  nothing  to 
secure  them.  . . . “Governments,”  as  Sir  John 

Macdonald  once  remarked,  “would  always  prefer  to 
do  right  if  by  doing  so  they  could  retain  their  seats 
on  the  right  side  of  the  Treasury.” 

The  proposed  Remedial  Bill  was  the  direct  if  be- 
lated result  of  the  campaign  instituted  by  the  late 
Archbishop.  The  Catholics  of  Canada  had  formed 
themselves  into  a defensive  fighting  phalanx,  the  at- 
tack upon  their  schools  having  effected  this,  as  it  al- 
ways has  elsewhere  and  is  quite  certain  to  do  at  any 
time. 

They  had  effectual  argument  in  living  thousands 
of  Canadians  educated  in  Separate  Schools  and  who 
were  as  broad-minded  and  as  loyal  citizens  as  any  of 
their  countrymen  and  equally  well-equipped  to  fill 
their  positions  in  life. 

The  party  was  enthusiastically  led  in  this  instance 
by  their  bishops.  Most  of  these  prelates  conformed 


370 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1896 


ordinarily  to  the  understanding  that  a clergyman 
should  not  in  his  public  capacity  use  his  clerical  pres- 
tige to  sway  man  to  his  private  opinion  on  political 
matters,  however  wise  or  legitimate  his  opinion  as  an 
individual  might  be.  In  this  instance,  however, 
where  the  conscience  and  religious  life  of  a whole  peo- 
ple were  affected,  they  took  sides  squarely  on  the 
question.  They  acted  with  as  avowed  a purpose  as 
in  more  recent  years  the  non- Conformist  clergymen 
of  Great  Britian  have  come  out  in  chapels  and  even 
upon  the  hustings  to  combat  the  Education  Act  of 
the  Unionist  party. 

The  Canadian  prelates  sent  pastoral  letters  to  the 
parishes  under  their  jurisdiction,  calling  on  their  peo- 
ple to  support  the  Government  which  had  promised 
remedial  legislation. 

But  the  courage  to  apply  even  this  remedy  had 
been  achieved  too  late  by  the  Conservatives.  The 
people  of  Quebec  had  lost  faith  in  the  sincerity  of  the 
Government’s  intentions.  Several  very  wise  heads 
in  the  clerical  party  believed  the  Remedial  Bill  was, 
as  one  said,  only  a “trompe  d*  oeil  ” 

Moreover,  long  before  this  Bill  came  in  on  the 
eve  of  an  appeal  to  the  country,  the  opposition,  led 
by  Wilfrid  Laurier,  the  brilliant  young  French- 
Can  a di  an  leader,  had  imbued  the  laity  of  Quebec  and 
many  of  the  clergy  with  the  belief  that  the  Liberals 
would  make  a more  satisfactory  restoration  of  the 
Catholic  Schools  to  the  Western  minority. 

The  choice  then  lay  between  the  opposition’s  prom- 


1896 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


371 


ises  and  the  stop-gap  policy  of  a dying  Government 
— between  Laurier  and  Tapper. 

Quebec  en  masse  called  for  Laurier,  and  a “solid 
Quebec”  sways  the  balance  of  power  this  way  or  that. 
The  end  came  on  June  23,  1896.  The  Government 
went  down  in  a most  crushing  defeat:  Quebec,  once 
roused,  had  done  its  work  thoroughly.  Ministers  of 
the  Crown  saw  themselves  defeated  there  by  mere 
striplings  of  politicians.  Even  the  Liberals  were 
astonished  at  the  extent  of  their  victory  and  the  Con- 
servatives had  no  words  to  describe  it. 

It  was  this  School  Question  which  had  overthrown 
the  Conservative  Government  after  a reign  of  eight- 
een years,  that  brought  the  Liberal  party  back  into 
power  with  its  opportunity  to  be  “more  Catholic  than 
the  Bishops.”  In  opposition  it  had  shown  the  aspir- 
ing politicians’  fatal  facility  for  making  promises. 
Once  in  power,  however,  with  an  equal  facility  for 
post-campaign  inertia  common  to  all  governments,  it 
gave  only  an  unsatisfactory  settlement,  and  left  the 
Catholics  more  or  less  unpropitiated  until 1 1904. 

1 Then  in  the  Autonomy  Act,  it  again  constitutionally  pledged  Can- 
ada to  uphold  the  minority’s  educational  rights  in  the  new  provinces  of 
Alberta  and  Saskatchewan.  This  somewhat  cleared  the  political  atmos- 
phere on  the  famous  school  question. 


XIV 


Shortly  before  Father  Lacombe’s  departure  from 
Ottawa  a pleasant  note  from  Lord  Aberdeen  invited 
him  again  to  luncheon  at  Rideau  Hall.  This,  with 
similar  occasions  that  winter  at  the  homes  of  other 
friends,  marked  for  Father  Lacombe  the  oasis  in  his 
journey  through  what  he  calls  “an  arid  and  burning 
wilderness  of  unpleasing  politics.” 

In  June  he  was  “freed  from  this  Edmonton.” 
His  old  comrade  Father  Leduc  was  installed  there 
“to  the  satisfaction  of  everyone  and  especially  of 
me,”  Father  Lacombe  writes  to  his  friend  in  a bright 
letter  from  Macleod  as  he  stops  over-night  on  his 
way  to  his  Hermitage.  He  is  travelling  there  “in 
a big  rough  farm- waggon  like  any  ordinary  manl 
Lo,  what  it  means  to  be  a Hermit.”  Rut  he  assures 
the  other  he  has  no  regret  for  his  “palace”  at  Edmon- 
ton or  the  fine  horses  and  carriage  he  had  there. 

Was  ever  a Hermit  more  abruptly  or  more  per- 
sistently thrown  back  into  the  world  from  his  re- 
treat? . . . On  August  4th  he  is  again  in  Mac- 

leod, called  to  Calgary  by  the  serious  illness  of  Bishop 
Grandin.  The  Bishop  lies  in  the  Calgary  hospital 
pending  the  doctor’s  decision  as  to  the  need  of  go- 
ing to  Montreal.  If  he  must  go,  Father  Lacombe 
must  take  him.  Poor  Hermit ! “I  was  already 

372 


1897 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


SIS 


seated  in  the  solitude  of  my  Hermitage  and  the 
programme  of  my  repose  was  traced,  when  this  un- 
lucky telegram  came.  Am  I then  condemned  to  be 
always  in  motion ?”  he  asks. 

Two  weeks  later  he  is  in  Montreal  with  the  bishop 
at  the  hospital. 

On  May  13,  1897,  his  friend,  Father  Legal,  was 
appointed  coadjutor  to  Bishop  Grandin  with  right 
of  succession. 

The  announcement  was  a source  of  genuine  pleas- 
ure to  Father  Lacombe  who  had  been  expecting  such 
an  eventuality  for  years.  He  promptly  sent  the 
young  bishop  the  mitre  and  breviary  that  had  been 
given  him  as  souvenirs  of  his  dead  friend  Arch- 
bishop Tache,  and  in  a letter  of  this  date  assures  him 
he  will  continue  to  be  “a  faithful  friend,  a devoted 
missionary,  to  aid  you  in  my  humble  position  to  carry 
the  burden  which  they  have  placed  on  you.”  Thus 
simply  this  venerable  counsellor  of  bishops  slipped 
into  his  place  as  adviser  and  trusted  friend  of  the  new 
bishop. 

All  summer  and  autumn  he  spent  at  his  Hermit- 
age with  occasional  visits  to  Macleod  and  Calgary. 
From  the  latter  place  he  writes  on  December  1st  this 
pathetic  little  note : 

“Just  a word  to  tell  you  that  it  is  very  cold — and 
still  colder.  My  kidney-trouble  seems  a little  better, 
but  to  offset  that  I have  a frenzied  cold  in  my  head 
which  torments  me  cruelly — Look  you,  I am  old.33 

He  was  then  but  two  months  away  from  his 


374 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1898 


seventy-second  birthday,  and  like  most  of  the  Oblates 
who  had  so  generously  worn  themselves  out  in  the 
painful  and  exacting  mission  work  of  the  west,  he 
had  not  escaped  bodily  ills. 

For  close  on  to  twenty  years  he  had  suffered  from 
disorders  of  his  kidneys  and  bladder,  and  at  times 
he  was  seriously  and  painfully  ill  because  of  these 
ailments.  Yet  he  was  still  obliged  to  do  his  share 
of  parochial  work.  The  influx  of  new  settlers  into 
the  west  calling  for  new  parishes,  together  with  the 
needs  of  the  Indian  missions  and  schools,  made  it 
almost  impossible  for  the  Bishop  of  St.  Albert  to 
release  any  man  from  his  post. 

Added  to  his  failing  health  is  a rather  constant 
care  self-imposed  by  his  work  for  the  Metis  at  his 
colony.  He  had  secured  as  resident  superintendent 
Father  Therien,  a priest  of  admirable  executive  abil- 
ity and  tact,  but  the  latter  had  his  hands  well-filled 
with  the  administration  of  the  colony  and  efforts  to 
locate  the  unsettled  and  unlikely-to-settle  Metis:  he 
could  give  little  time  to  help  secure  a revenue. 

The  burden  of  financing  consequently  fell  upon 
Father  Lacombe  alone. 

His  friends  had  been  very  generous  to  his  appeals 
for  funds,  but  there  was  necessarily  a great  deal  of 
money  required  by  a plan  that  comprised  a chapel,  a 
residence,  a boarding  school,  a flour  and  saw  mill, 
implements,  cattle  and  horses  for  the  Metis  and  other 
assistance  to  them  from  time  to  time. 

The  colony  had  now  been  formed  three  years  and 


1898 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


375 


in  view  of  the  aid  already  given  the  Government 
sent  an  official  to  make  a full  report  upon  the  con- 
ditions of  the  colony,  its  finances,  and  administra- 
tions: likewise  with  regard  to  the  proposed  school  for 
which  Father  Lacombe  was  then  seeking  assistance. 
Lord  Aberdeen  commented  in  writing  upon  the  Re- 
port when  submitted  to  him : 

“It  is  with  much  pleasure  that  I signed  this  Report,  and  I 
take  this  opportunity  of  offering  cordial  good  wishes  for  the 
success  of  the  scheme  which  has  been  devised  with  so  much 
warm-hearted  earnestness  and  practical  sagacity  by  my  friend, 
Father  Lacombe.” 

Mr.  Ruttan’s  report  is  very  favourable  through- 
out. “It  is  wonderful,”  he  states  in  one  place,  “what 
has  been  done  with  so  little  money.” 

Encouraged  by  Lord  Aberdeen  to  seek  further  as- 
sistance in  the  east  Father  Lacombe  left  Calgary 
toward  the  end  of  1898,  and  early  in  the  following 
year  he  reports  to  his  friend  at  St.  Albert  generous 
gifts  from  Lord  Strathcona,  James  Ross  and  others. 
Apart  from  these  he  found  little  practical  sympathy 
for  the  Metis,  and  his  entire  general  collections 
amounted  to  only  $1,000. 

On  this  visit  to  Ottawa  Father  Lacombe  had  met 
Lady  Minto,  the  wife  of  the  new  Governor-General, 
and  although  he  formed  no  deep  friendship  with  this 
vice-regal  pair  as  he  had  with  his  whole-hearted 
friends,  the  Aberdeens,  their  relations  would  seem  to 
have  been  of  a pleasant  nature,  for  Lady  Minto  in 


376 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


April  conveys  to  him  a portrait  of  Queen  Victoria 
sent  to  Father  Lacombe  by  the  Queen  with  a letter 
from  her  daughter. 

This  gracious  remembrance  was  deeply  pleasing  to 
the  loyal  old  missionary,  who  had  frequently  spoken 
to  his  Indians  of  the  virtues  and  power  of  the  great 
Queen  Mother  across  the  seas.  It  brought  him,  too, 
the  renewal  of  a charming  acquaintance  with  the 
Abbe  de  Bie,  then  Abbot  of  Bornheim  Abbey  in  Bel- 
gium, but  in  the  early  seventies  secretary  of  Mon- 
signor Smeulders,  the  Papal  Legate  to  Canada. 

This  pleasant  letter,  written  in  French  like  almost 
all  of  Father  Lacombe’s  correspondence,  reads: 

“Abbaye  de  Bornheim,  May  11,  1899. 
“Rev.  Father  and  Friend: 

“ Voila , my  dear  Reverend  Father,  what  a fit  of  jealousy 
seizes  me!  I have  just  read  in  a Brussels  daily:  ‘The  Rev. 

Father  Lacombe,  the  valiant  missionary  of  the  northwest,  at 
present  in  Montreal  working  in  the  interests  of  his  beloved 
missions  has  received  from  Queen  Victoria  the  portrait  of 
Her  Majesty  sent  by  herself  and  accompanied  by  a letter 
written  by  the  Princess  Beatrice,  in  which  she  says:  “The 

Queen  is  deeply  interested  in  what  has  been  told  her  about 
Father  Lacombe  and  has  agreed  with  pleasure  to  your  sug- 
gestion to  send  him  her  portrait.  . . .”  9 

“ ‘ Tiens! 9 I said  to  myself,  ‘I  am  very  glad  that  the  Queen 
of  England  feels  such  an  interest  in  Father  Lacombe  and 
sends  him  her  portrait,  but  how  can  she  feel  as  much  interest 
in  him  as  you,  who  lived  some  time  with  him  in  Montreal — 
you  who  have  received  from  him  so  many  marks  of  friend- 
ship and  fraternal  affection?’ 


Klondykers  at  Edmonton  en  route  to  the  Yukon 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


377 


“My  project  was  quickly  made — knowing  you  to  be  in 
Montreal,  I hasten  to  write  you  a little  letter  accompanying 
it,  too,  with  my  portrait  as  your  gracious  Sovereign  has  done. 
Without  doubt  this  will  be  much  less  honour  for  you  (and  if 
all  those  who  are  interested  in  you  should  send  you  their  por- 
traits you  would  have  enough  to  decorate  all  the  palaces  of 
the  Saskatchewan),  but  at  least  I hope  that  it  will  not  be  dis- 
agreeable to  hear  a word  again  from  your  friend,  the  little 
secretary  of  the  late  Monsignor  Smeulders,  the  Apostolic 
Delegate  to  Canada. 

“D.  Amedee  de  Bie.” 


The  movement  of  the  gold-seekers  north  from  Ed- 
monton in  1898 — or,  as  it  is  known  in  western  his- 
tory, the  year  of  the  Klondyke  rush — had  not  only 
brought  Edmonton  into  the  eyes  of  the  continent  and 
given  it  a first  impulse  toward  becoming  a great  in- 
land city — but  it  had  brought  the  whole  north  coun- 
try before  the  consideration  of  the  Government. 

Since  a find  of  minerals  was  liable  at  any  time  to 
send  a rush  of  other  and  more  permanent  settlers 
there,  it  became  necessary  for  the  Government  to  get 
some  control  of  the  Crees,  Chipewyans  and  Beavers  in 
the  Athabasca  and  Peace  River  countries.  It  was 
consequently  decided  to  send  a party  of  Commis- 
sioners in  there  to  bring  these  tribes  into  treaty  re- 
lations with  the  Government. 

The  committee  of  the  Privy  Council  appointed  by 
His  Excellency  to  consider  this  matter  reported  on 
May  3rd,  1899,  that  the  Superintendent-General  of 


378 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


Indian  Affairs  had  reason  to  believe  there  would  be 
trouble  in  negotiating  the  Treaty  with  the  Indians  of 
Athabasca  district  and  dealing  with  the  claims  of  the 
half-breeds,  as  the  Indians  were  suspicious  of  white 
men  entering  their  country  and  the  Metis  likely  to 
be  dissatisfied  with  the  measure  of  recognition  given 
to  their  claims.  The  Committee  moreover  were 
handicapped  by  the  meagre  knowledge  that  the  De- 
partment could  furnish  them  concerning  these  In- 
dians. * . . 

These  considerations  led  the  Committee  to  the  be- 
lief: 

“That  it  would  be  desirable  if  the  Commissioners  could  have 
the  assistance  and  counsel  of  the  Very  Reverend  Father  La- 
combe.  Father  Lacombe  has  been  so  long  in  the  country  as 
a missionary,  knows  the  Indians  and  half-breeds  so  intimately 
and  possesses  their  confidence  in  so  marked  a degree  that  he 
would  be  able  to  render  most  valuable  and  effective  assistance 
to  the  Commissioners  in  their  difficult  mission.” 

In  view  of  this  Report  the  Hon.  Mr.  Sifton,  Minis- 
ter of  the  Interior,  called  upon  the  old  missionary 
and  requested  him  to  give  his  services  to  the  Govern- 
ment in  this  connection,  to  urge  the  Indians  and  half- 
breeds  to  make  the  Treaty  peaceably.  Although  de- 
cidedly pleased  at  the  compliment  conveyed  by  the 
offer,  Father  Lacombe  refused  to  go. 

“It  is  too  much  for  me,”  he  said  to  the  Minister, 
“I  am  too  old  to  travel  hundreds  of  miles  in  little 
boats,  and  I will  only  bother  your  people  to  take  care 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


879 


of  me  if  I fall  sick.  Try  to  find  somebody  else.” 

“No,  we  want  you,”  Mr.  Sifton  persisted.  “You 
will  have  everything  at  your  disposal  to  make  the  trip 
comfortable.” 

The  Prime  Minister  also  added  his  persuasions. 

“Bien”  Father  Lacombe  said  finally,  “Telegraph  to 
Bishop  Grandin.  If  he  orders  me  to  go,  I will  go.” 

When  the  proposed  Treaty  was  under  discussion 
in  the  House  of  Commons  in  June  of  this  year  the 
Minister  of  the  Interior  said: 

“Along  with  this  Commission  we  have  asked  the  Reverend 
Father  Lacombe  to  go,  not  as  a member  of  the  Commission, 
but  in  an  advisory  capacity.  Everyone  who  has  lived  in  the 
northwest  for  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  Protestant  and 
Catholic,  knows  well  that  there  is  no  man  in  the  northwest 
looked  upon  by  the  Indians  with  the  same  reverence  and  af- 
fection as  Father  Lacombe.”  1 

“Hear!  Hear!”  interjected  Nicholas  Flood 
Davin,  the  brilliant,  genial  member  from  Regina, 
calling  out  from  his  seat  on  the  Opposition  benches. 

On  May  11,  Father  Lacombe  wrote  from  Mon- 
treal to  Bishop  Legal — “I  have  decided  to  accept  the 
offer  of  going  on  that  Commission.  Pray  for  your 
old  missionary.  It  is  finished.  There  is  no  more  re- 
pose for  me.  May  the  good  Saviour  have  pity  on 
me!”  Again  he  writes,  “This  is  doubtless  the  last 
service  I will  render  our  Congregation  and  my  coun- 
try— As  God  wills!” 

i Debates,  H.  of  C.,  1899,  Vol.  1,  p.  5694. 


380 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


The  party  left  Edmonton  on  May  29th,  driving 
in  heavy  stage-waggons  and  escorted  by  eleven 
Mounted  Police,  among  whom  was  Fitzgerald  of 
heroic  memory.  At  Athabasca  Landing,  then  a tiny 
hamlet  dotting  the  water-front,  the  party  crossed  the 
border-land  into  the  wilderness.  From  here  to  the 
settlement  on  Lesser  Slave  Lake  they  travelled  in 
open  scows,  tenting  by  night. 

Father  Lacombe  and  the  physician  of  the  party 
shared  one  tent,  the  younger  man  always  finely  solic- 
itous for  the  comfort  and  health  of  his  venerable  com- 
panion. As  the  journey  lengthened,  however. 
Father  Lacombe  to  his  extreme  delight  found  that 
his  health  was  improving:  he  felt  himself  renewing 
the  days  of  his  prime,  and  again  proclaimed  the  woods 
an  anodyne. 

He  had  brought  a light  portable  chapel  with  him, 
which  was  easily  converted  into  an  altar,  and  some 
mornings  he  celebrated  Mass  in  his  tent  with  Com- 
missioner McKenna  as  his  acolyte  and  the  half-breed 
trackers  as  a congregation. 

From  Bishop  Grouard  of  Fort  Chipewyan,  who 
was  returning  from  Europe  and  had  joined  the  party 
at  the  Landing,  Ex-Governor  Laird,  President  of 
the  Commission,  learned  that  June  13th  would  be  the 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  Father  Lacombe’s  priesthood. 
The  entire  party,  like  a group  of  boys  before  Christ- 
mas, thereupon  planned  a celebration  to  surprise  their 
old  travelling  companion.  They  succeeded: 

“It  was  on  the  eve  of  my  feast  that  they  did  cele- 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


881 


brate  it,”  he  recalls.  “That  dear  old  man,  the  Gov- 
ernor, he  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  I know.  . . . 

Well,  that  night  at  a fine  open  place  where  the  Saul- 
teau  river  meets  the  Little  Slave — a fine  place  with 
the  green  forests  on  each  side — the  Governor  called 
out  the  word  to  camp.  It  was  early ; I was  surprised 
that  we  camp  so  early,  for  we  were  in  a hurry  to 
meet  the  Indians  as  we  promise. 

“While  the  rest — they  pitched  camp,  I walked  off 
with  my  breviary.  When  I came  back  I see  every- 
thing in  fine  order — and  a flag-pole  up  with  a flag 
flying.  But  I did  not  guess  anything  then. 

“I  was  sitting  in  my  tent  in  a little  while,  look- 
ing out  on  the  river — Oh,  that  was  fine — poetique 
— to  look  on!  . . . And  suddenly  the  Governor 
he  came  to  my  tent  and  ask  to  come  in.  . . 

The  whole  party  came  behind  Mr.  Laird  with  an 
address  and  a poem  inscribed  on  birch  bark,  and 
after  the  speeches  a banquet  was  spread  on  the 
grass. 

“Next  morning  the  bishop  and  I said  Mass,  that 
good  old  bishop  serving  mine.  The  door  of  the  tent 
was  wide  open,  and  many  knelt  on  the  grass  out- 
side. After  Mass  we  pitched  our  tents  and  started 
for  the  Lake.  . . . Ah,  that  was  a pleasant  day 
— fifty  years  from  the  day  the  old  Bishop  Bourget 
ordained  me  for  the  missions  of  the  west.” 

Reaching  Lesser  Slave  Lake  settlement 1 on  June 

i Now  named  Grouard  in  honour  of  one  of  the  most  delightful  of 
ecclesiastics,  the  venerable  Bishop  of  Athabasca. 


382 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


19th,  they  found  the  Indians  awaiting  them  in  hun- 
dreds of  tepees  on  the  fine  open  meadow-lands. 

These  Indians,  among  the  most  advanced  in  the 
north,  entered  into  the  Treaty  willingly  enough  after 
much  parleying  by  the  Chiefs  Moostoos  and  Kenoos- 
hayoo  with  Mr.  Laird  and  Father  Lacombe.  The 
concluding  speech  was  made  by  the  old  missionary 
who,  notwithstanding  his  little  contact  with  the 
Northern  Crees,  was  known  to  several  of  these  In- 
dians personally  and  to  all  of  them  by  fame.  On 
the  following  day  the  documents  were  signed  and  the 
annuity-payments  began. 

The  Metis  had  to  be  dealt  with  next  and  this 
proved  a more  difficult  task.  Their  chief  speaker 
declared  that  he  and  his  people  did  not  want  the 
Government’s  money  in  exchange  for  their  land:  they 
wanted  to  be  left  undisturbed  in  their  own  country. 
This  with  much  more  in  a disaffected  strain  was  only 
a preliminary  to  their  objection  to  non-negotiable 
script  being  paid  them  as  the  Government  pro- 
posed. 

The  intention  this  year  was  to  make  half-breed 
script  non-transferable,  to  save  the  unwary  half- 
breed  from  speculators.  This  was  a condition  that 
Father  Lacombe  together  with  other  friends  of  the 
Metis  had  been  particularly  anxious  should  be  at- 
tached, and  he  now  made  an  ardent  and  impressive 
speech  to  the  half-breeds  urging  them  to  safeguard 
their  own  and  their  children’s  interests  by  accepting 
it.  He  recalled  with  indignation  the  way  in  which 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


383 


the  half-breeds  of  the  plains  had  been  parted  from 
their  scrip  lands  by  greedy  and  often  unscrupulous 
speculators. 

Here  again  the  half-breeds  clamoured  for  the  right 
to  do  as  they  pleased  with  their  scrip — to  sell  it  or 
not  as  they  chose.  They  insisted  upon  this  point  be- 
ing ceded;  their  alternative  w^as  a refusal  to  enter 
into  any  negotiations  with  the  Government.  The 
motley  gathering  of  white  traders  and  scrip-hunters 
who  had  camped  on  their  trail  were  perhaps  not  with- 
out influence  upon  the  half-breed  leaders  in  main- 
taining this  attitude. 

That  night  a Council  was  held  by  the  officials  of 
the  Treaty  party  and  Father  Lacombe,  when  it  was 
regretfully  decided  that  the  scrip  should  be  dis- 
tributed in  the  old  way  with  no  conditions  attached. 
It  was  essential  that  there  should  be  no  failure  to 
negotiate  with  this  insurgent  group  of  Metis  or  they 
would  grow  disaffected  and  rouse  other  Indians 
against  the  Treaty. 

In  the  House  of  Commons  in  1900  fault  being 
found  with  the  Government  for  this  action,  Sir  Wil- 
frid Laurier  informed  the  House  that  when  Com- 
missioner Laird  and  Father  Lacombe  found  the  half- 
breeds  would  not  take  the  new  non-negotiable  scrip 
they  had  been  obliged  to  issue  the  old  form.  “There 
is  no  man,”  he  added,  “who  has  taken  a stronger 
view  than  Father  Lacombe  against  the  excesses  re- 
sulting from  issuing  scrip  or  who  saw  less  benefit  in 
its  results  to  the  half-breed.  But  in  view  of  the  de- 


384s 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


termined  attitude  of  the  half-breeds  . . .”  no 

other  course  was  open  to  them. 

With  the  treaty-making  past  the  party  pushed  on 
to  the  north.  Some  days  later  Father  Lacombe 
wrote  to  his  friend  from  the  banks  of  the  Peace  say- 
ing he  had  wanted  to  tell  him  about  their  journey 
on  the  ninety  miles  of  Peace  River  Trail,  but  con- 
cluded he  had  no  words  to  describe  it.  The  road 
was  obstructed  by  stumps,  by  swamps,  by  creeks 
swollen  with  the  rains — and  “all  this  in  the  middle  of 
a forest  so  black  and  high  that  we  scarcely  knew  there 
was  a sun.  The  rain  went  with  us  during  the  first 
five  days.  Clouds  of  mosquitoes  and  flies  followed  us, 
fighting  for  more  blood.  . . .” 

These  last  were  what  he  called  the  little  amiabil- 
ities of  the  journey.  But  he  rather  enjoyed  the  ex- 
perience on  the  whole,  for — 

“All  these  difficulties  of  the  voyage  bring  me  back  to  my 
old  days — the  superb  airs,  this  battle  with  the  elements,  makes 
me  forget  that  I carry  with  me  seventy-two  years,  and  per- 
suade me  that  I am  not  made  for  the  luxuries  of  fine  civiliza- 
tion.” 

On  the  sixth  day  the  party  emerged  from  the  for- 
est-trail to  the  superb  open  landscape  of  Peace  River 
Crossing,  and  in  its  tranquil  beauty  forgot  their 
trials.  Here  again,  and  later  at  old  Fort  Dunve- 
gan  the  scenes  of  Lesser  Slave  Lake  were  repeated. 

At  the  Crossing  as  at  the  Lake  Father  Lacombe 
saw  a prosperous  mission — a farm,  a church  and  a 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


385 


large  school  where  thirty  years  before  he  had  seen 
only  a beautiful  wilderness.  In  a letter  written  to 
Bishop  Legal  he  assures  him — that  while  the  latter 
is  probably  supplicating  Heaven  for  the  voyageur , 
he  may  be  easy  in  his  mind  about  the  old  man,  as 
he  would  not  exchange  his  journey  for  all  the  feasts 
of  the  greatest  gros  bonnets  he  knows.  His  proper 
sphere  is  still,  he  claims,  at  the  end  of  his  days  to 
be  with  the  Indians  and  half-breeds.  . . . “It  is 

so  my  destiny  is  written.” 

From  the  Crossing  to  Fort  Vermilion  they  con- 
tinued their  journey  in  open  scows,  drifting  easily 
down  stream  by  day  and  night.  It  was  pleasant 
travelling,  but  at  night  Father  Lacombe  lay  awake 
“to  watch  the  mountains,  the  trees,  the  river.  To 
me  they  were  like  phantoms.” 

From  Fort  Vermilion  the  party  floated  pleasantly 
do  wn  in  open  scows  between  banks  that  had 
witnessed  hot  scenes  of  rivalry  in  the  old  days  of 
opposing  fur-companies.  After  several  days  the 
entrance  to  Lake  Athabasca  was  reached.  The 
boatmen  planned  to  camp  here  for  the  night,  as  the 
wind  was  very  high;  but  across  the  neck  of  the  lake 
the  travellers  could  see  the  white  sides  of  Fort  Chipe- 
wyan  gleaming  like  gypsum  walls  in  the  moonlight, 
and  on  the  shore  a hugh  bonfire  had  been  lit  to  greet 
them. 

It  beckoned  warmly,  and  Commissioners  and  half- 
breeds  alike  said — “We  will  go!” 

A small  fire  was  lit  in  the  prow  of  the  lead- 


686 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


ing  scow,  and  all  were  pulled  out  from  the  still  silver 
current  of  the  Quatres-Fourches,  leaping  ahead  to 
hospitable  old  Chipewyan. 

“It  was  witching  that  night,  when  we  reached  the 
mission  at  eleven  o’clock,”  Father  Lacombe  wrote 
to  his  friend. 

As  the  boats  beached  at  the  mission  landing- 
place  the  entire  population  of  the  mission-colony  was 
grouped  about  a large  bonfire  on  the  shore,  while  the 
banks  behind  overflowed  with  hundreds  of  the 
Christian  Indians  of  the  Chipewyan  tribe.  They  had 
assembled  for  the  Treaty,  but  for  the  moment  were 
intent  only  on  welcoming  home  Bishop  Grouard,  the 
gentle  prelate  who  had  grown  white  in  their  service. 


XV 


Father  Lacombe  found  Chipewyan  rich  in  asso- 
ciations of  Mackenzie  and  Simpson  and  Franklin  and 
many  another  of  the  north’s  great  explorers  and 
traders.  This  Fort  had  been  made  the  Athabasca 
headquarters  in  the  days  of  warfare  and  loot  among 
the  rival  fur-companies,  and  was  consequently  over 
a century  old. 

The  Master  of  the  Post  extended  to  the  travellers 
the  traditional  welcome  of  the  Gentlemen  Adven- 
turers. There  was  an  atmosphere  of  the  Past  cling- 
ing to  the  place:  clerks  moved  leisurely  about  their 
duties;  train-dogs  swarmed  within  the  quadrangle; 
the  bell  for  rations  swung  near  the  main  gate.  But 
the  bastions,  the  guns  and  sentinel  tower  were  gone; 
the  great  gates  no  longer  clanged  shut  at  night — 
and  no  sentry  kept  watch  from  the  tower  or  paced 
a gallery  within  the  palisade. 

When  free  from  his  duties  with  the  treaty  party 
Father  Lacombe  spent  his  time  at  the  Mission, 
eagerly  absorbing  tales  of  his  brethren — Grouard 
and  Faraud.  The  mission  had  been  established  by 
Tache  in  1848  and  the  field  had  proved  as  full  of 
privations  as  of  interest.  But  since  the  days  of 

387 


388 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


Alexander  Mackenzie  the  very  austerity  of  the  rocky 
place  seemed  to  have  endeared  it  to  men  who  were 
strong-hearted  enough  to  live  there. 

The  treaty  party  now  proceeded  up  the  Athabasca 
to  Fort  McMurray  by  the  Company’s  steamer  Gra- 
hame,  which  was  crowded  with  returning  gold-seek- 
ers. All  along  their  route  the  Commissioners  had 
met  small  parties  of  these  disconsolate  mortals  home- 
ward bound:  they  heard  of  others  who  had  set  out 
over  “the  Trail  of  Death” — the  overland  route  from 
Edmonton  through  the  Swan  Hills — and  who  would 
never  return. 

Here  on  the  Graham  they  felt  overwhelmed  with 
the  tales  of  disaster  from  men  who  had  pushed  past 
the  Mounted  Police  pickets  the  previous  year,  cer- 
tain that  they  were  on  the  rosy  way  to  Fortune. 

On  the  Fort  McMurray  meadows  at  the  base  of 
a spruce-covered  mount  the  Indian  bands,  mixed  Cree 
and  Chipewyan,  were  encamped.  These  were  also 
brought  into  harmonious  conformity  with  Canadian 
institutions  by  means  of  the  usual  ceremony  and  pay- 
ments. 

The  tents  of  the  Commissioners  were  pitched  on 
the  meadows  beside  the  trading-post.  One  night  a 
furious  storm  of  wind  and  rain  came  on:  the  wind 
picked  Father  Lacombe’s  tent  up  from  its  fastenings 
and  left  him  exposed  to  the  downpour.  Hastily  col- 
lecting his  blankets  and  effects  he  ran  for  shelter  to 
another  tent,  and  notwithstanding  his  age  felt  no  ill- 
effects  from  the  drenching. 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


389 

From  McMurray  the  party  spent  several  days 
travelling  in  open  scows  drawn  through  the  rapids 
by  trackmen,  and  early  in  September  they  arrived  in 
Edmonton. 

Treaty  No.  8 had  become  a matter  of  history. 

Father  Lacombe  announced  his  return  in  a letter 
of  September  8th.  He  was  well — not  even  fatigued ; 
and  he  comments  gaily: 

“ They  cannot  kill  me — neither  bishops  nor  Gov- 
ernments.” 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  civilization  Father  La- 
combe received  a letter  from  the  north  that  brought 
him  again  into  relations  with  the  Indians  of  the  North 
Country. 

Father  Falher  wrote  reminding  him  that  three  In- 
dians, accused  of  murder  and  taken  out  from  Lesser 
Slave  Lake  shortly  after  the  arrival  of  the  treaty 
party  there,  were  now  in  prison  at  Edmonton  or  Fort 
Saskatchewan. 

They  had  been  snatched  up  out  of  their  tepees 
and  woods  to  be  deposited  between  the  bars  and 
timbers  of  a Mounted  Police  guard-room  hundreds 
of  miles  away.  They  had  scarcely  understood  there 
was  a white  man’s  law,  until  they  found  themselves 
like  animals  in  a cage,  dumbly  wondering  at  the  cause 
of  their  own  misery. 

The  northern  priest  recalled  the  circumstances  of 
the  case  and  begged  Father  Lacombe  in  the  name 
of  all  the  Crees  of  that  district  to  secure  some  leniency 
for  these  men  by  explaining  to  the  whites  the  old  be- 


390 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


lief  of  the  Crees  concerning  the  Witigo . The  cir- 
cumstances  were  unusual. 

The  Pheasant,  a Lesser  Slave  Lake  Indian,  had 
suddenly  lost  his  reason  and  run  amuck  in  the  camp 
threatening  to  kill  and  eat  whoever  crossed  his  path. 
This  had  happened  before — and  the  Crees  held  the 
old  tribal  belief  that  this  man  was  possessed  of  a can- 
nibal  spirit  which  prompted  him  to  destroy  his  own 
kind.  They  first  tried  traditional  remedies,  by  im- 
mersing him  in  boiling  water  and  in  other  ways  en- 
deavouring to  melt  the  icy  spirit  possessing  him — 
but  the  Witigo  persisted  in  his  madness  and  his 
threats. 

Then  solemnly  as  for  an  execution  they  prepared 
to  kill  The  Pheasant.  One  struck  him  with  his  axe; 
as  The  Pheasant  dashed  away  another  fell  on  him, 
then  another — and  when  dead  they  cut  him  open  to  let 
the  Evil  Spirit  escape.  This  done  they  returned 
calmly  to  their  daily  life,  the  tribe  feeling  free  to 
breathe  again  with  the  man-killer  dead. 

Father  Falher  reminded  Father  Lacombe  of  his 
own  knowledge  of  similar  cases  before  the  Crees  were 
Christianized.  He  noted  further  that  the  first  axe- 
stroke  was  inflicted  on  The  Pheasant  by  a man  who 
had  only  been  converted  from  paganism  two  years 
earlier.  The  letter  was  eloquent  in  its  very  simplic- 
ity: 

“I  address  myself  to  you,  my  dear  Father,  because  I 
know  that  you  love  our  Indians.  . . . For  my  part  I 

love  them  only  the  more  when  I see  them  in  trouble. 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


391 


4tI  would  have  you  go  and  visit  them  that  you  may  console 
them  a little,  and  even  defend  them  if  possible,  pleading  the 
extenuating  circumstances  of  the  case.  You  especially  who 
understand  the  Indian  and  his  superstitions  can  easily  explain 
this  to  the  whites,  who  would  not  otherwise  be  able  to  under- 
stand the  case  they  are  going  to  judge.” 

Father  Lacombe  made  the  visits  as  requested  to 
the  unfortunate  Crees,  consoled  them  in  their  cells, 
took  up  their  case  with  the  authorities,  and  had  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  all  three  released  after  their  trial. 
They  returned  very  gladly  to  their  homes  and  since 
then  have  been  exemplary  Indians,  carefully  avoid- 
ing collision  with  the  Police  and  the  white  man’s 
laws. 

The  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  priesthood  had  been 
celebrated  on  the  banks  of  the  Little  Slave  River, 
but  his  friends  would  not  let  that  suffice.  Conse- 
quently on  September  25  St.  Albert  was  en  fete  in 
honour  of  its  founder.  Bishop  Grandin  and  his 
coadjutor  had  planned  a celebration  worthy  of  the 
old  missionary. 

Indians  and  half-breeds  came  long  distances  to 
camp  about  the  Cathedral  and  assist  at  this  triumph 
of  their  old  friend.  Priests  gathered  from  every  por- 
tion of  the  diocese;  Archbishop  Langevin  and  Bishop 
Dontenwill,  the  brilliant  young  incumbent  of  New 
Westminster,  had  come  to  honour  the  jubilarian. 

There  was  a solemn  religious  service,  followed  by 
a banquet  and  on  the  concluding  night  a shower  of 
fireworks  was  employed  to  delight  the  Indian  visitors. 


892 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1898 


The  memorable  feature  of  the  celebration  was  a toast 
proposed  to  the  Man-of-the-Beautiful-Mind,  the 
Man-of -the-Good-IIeart — Albert  Lacombe — by  his 
old  comrade-in-arms,  the  Bishop  of  St.  Albert. 

It  was  during  this  address  that  Father  Lacombe 
received  the  name  by  which  he  is  now  known  to  his 
friends  on  two  continents — the  Datur-omnibus . 

The  Bishop,  who  was  as  visibly  happy  in  the  cele- 
bration as  his  guest  of  honour,  rose  to  propose  the 
toast : 

“When  I was  at  Rome,”  he  said,  “in  1869  we  met 
there  a vehicle  on  which  was  written  these  words: 
Datur-omnibus . I enquired  the  meaning  of  the  in- 
scription, and  was  told  that  this  carriage  wended  its 
way  from  end  to  end  of  Rome  wherever  trouble  was; 
and  if  anyone,  innocent  or  guilty,  was  pursued  or 
in  danger  he  could  take  refuge  there. 

“The  driver  was  instructed  to  take  the  refugee 
to  some  safe  place,  where  he  might  await  in  peace 
the  decision  upon  his  case.  This  was  a custom  years 
ago,  when  the  Pope  was  King  of  Rome. 

“Eh,  bien , let  me  apply  the  phrase  to  our  deal 
Father  Lacombe — Datur-omnibus!  It  is  thirty* 
eight  years  since  he  came  here  accompanying  the 
lamented  Archbishop  Tache.  The  latter  marvelling 
at  the  beauty  of  the  site  decided  to  establish  a missioi 
on  this  hill  and  dedicated  it  to  the  patron-saint  o. 
Father  Lacombe. 

“And  he,  who  is  still  with  us,  set  himself  to  thi 
new  task  laying  the  foundations  of  the  mission  which 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


393 


has  flourished  so  remarkably,  and  is  now  even  an 
episcopal  see. 

“He  has  not  only  worked  for  this  diocese,  but  for 
the  whole  ecclesiastical  province  of  St.  Boniface. 
Had  anyone  need  of  an  intermediary — one  to  deal 
with  the  Government  or  the  Canadian  Pacific  Com- 
pany, or  a man  for  any  other  important  mission — they 
asked  me  for  Father  Lacombe.  . . . 

“More  than  once  I have  heard  this  comment,  ‘How 
is  it  that  Father  Lacombe  is  not  a Bishop?’ 

“This  thing,  my  friends  seems  to  me  very  easy 
to  understand.  Apart  from  the  fact  that  those  who 
are  deserving  of  the  office  cannot  all  be  bishops — or 
we  would  all  be  bishops  here — it  must  not  be  for- 
gotten that  the  Creator  forms  special  men  for  special 
missions.  The  Bishop  is  charged  with  the  adminis- 
tration of  one  portion  of  the  Church — or,  if  you  wish, 
a particular  Church  to  which  he  must  devote  himself 
entirely. 

“But  Father  Lacombe  has  been  in  some  sense  the 
universal  man — Datur -omnibus.  If  he  had  been  a 
bishop  he  could  not  have  been  this;  he  could  not  for 
instance  have  performed  for  the  Government  the  serv- 
ice which  it  requested  of  him  quite  recently  in  going 
to  facilitate  the  proceedings  of  a treaty  which  it  de- 
sired to  make  with  the  Metis  and  Indians  of  the  Peace 
and  Athabasca  Rivers — without  mentioning  the 
numerous  other  missions  which  he  has  accomplished 
during  his  fifty  years  of  priesthood  in  Manitoba,  in 
the  Northwest  and,  I may  say,  in  all  Canada. 


394 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1899 


“God,  who  directs  all  with  wisdom,  has  willed  that 
he  should  be  free,  that  he  should  lend  himself  to  all 
and  for  all.  Dcitur-omnibus!” 

The  remainder  of  the  year  1899  was  spent  by 
Father  Lacombe  in  Southern  Alberta,  with  brief 
visits  to  Edmonton  and  Hobbema.  He  was  invited 
to  the  latter  point  by  the  Indians  themselves  to  settle 
difficulties  concerning  the  schools.  A few  days  ear- 
lier he  had  been  summoned  by  telegraph  to  the  Piegan 
Reserve,  where  the  dissatisfied  Indians  were  raising  a 
disturbance  about  the  size  of  their  rations. 

He  feels  himself  the  shuttle-cock  of  circumstances, 
and  he  rebels  against  it  to  Bishop  Legal : 

“If  this  continues,  when  shall  I ever  have  repose 
or  tranquillity?  And  they  want  me  to  write  my 
Memoirs ! . . . Don’t  you  consider  this  a farce?” 

Nevertheless  his  sense  of  obedience,  which  as  cer- 
tainly as  his  genuine  piety  underlay  the  little  vanities 
of  his  words  and  the  activities  of  his  latter  days — 
urged  him  to  attempt  the  Memoirs.  On  November 
12,  in  the  little  rambling  rectory  at  Calgary  which 
had  grown  room  by  room  around  the  original  log- 
cabin,  we  find  him  arranging  one  apartment  “with 
light  and  quiet,”  in  which  to  write  his  Memoirs. 

He  plans  these  in  the  form  of  letters  to  his  bene- 
factors M.  and  Mdme.  Forest;  but  because  of  his 
advancing  years,  no  less  than  the  fear  that  it  was 
then  too  late  to  acquire  the  writer’s  metier , he  was 
very  unwilling  to  undertake  the  work.  He  was  also 
reluctant  to  turn  himself  away  from  humanity  and 


1899 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


395 


its  irresistible  appeals,  and  bury  himself  in  a room 
with  dead  paper  and  ink — 

On  December  4th,  he  writes: 

“At  last  I have  begun  to  write  my  Memoirs.  That  ap- 
pears absurd  to  me.  But,  ‘One  obeys  or  one  does  not  obey’ 
. . . Then  I obey.  That  in  itself  is  something.” 

He  sets  himself  to  work  now  with  what  will  he 
can  call  up,  and  the  result  of  the  next  two  months 
and  stray  moments  in  the  next  year  or  two  resulted  in 
filling  five  or  six  notebooks  with  a mass  of  formal 
discursive  writing.  This  contained  a brief  and  in- 
complete outline  of  his  life  up  to  1864,  and  is  blended 
with  numerous  lengthy  reflections  of  a pious 
nature. 

With  the  terror  of  producing  a book  always  hang- 
ing over  him  he  dropped  the  charmingly  natural 
style  of  his  letters.  Here  and  there  his  broken  nar- 
rative lightens  to  a fine  bit  of  descriptive  writing — 
and  these  portions  have  been  quoted  in  the  earlier 
part  of  this  work. 

Father  Lacombe  did  not  give  undivided  attention 
to  his  uncongenial  task,  however ; his  letters  to  Bishop 
Legal  now  are  filled  with  plans  and  suggestions  con- 
cerning diocesan  affairs  and  the  half-breed  colony  at 
St.  Paul.  The  attempt  at  concentration  upon  his 
early  days  and  labours  apparently  only  spurred  him 
to  renewed  activity  upon  what  still  remains  to  be 
done. 

“I  perceive,”  he  declares  with  unconscious  naivete, 


S90 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1900 


“that  in  writing  these  Memoirs  I find  a grand  op- 
portunity of  forming  new  plans.” 

But  he  is  not  left  alone  with  his  memories.  His 
friends  in  Eastern  Canada  availed  themselves  of  the 
Christmas  season  to  send  him  presents  for  his  Jubilee 
year:  presents,  which  like  everything  else  detachable 
that  his  long  life  had  brought  him,  were  speedily  dis- 
tributed among  the  different  missions. 

“In  Prussia,”  he  writes  to  his  friend,  “there  are  Bishops 
who  are  princes  because  of  their  episcopal  position.  In  our 
northwest  there  are  Cures  who  are  princes,  because  of  the 
kind  favor  of  circumstances.” 

He  might  have  said — Cures  who  are  princes  be- 
cause of  their  unique  and  royal  personality. 

A year  earlier  Father  Lacombe  had  written  of  his 
position  as  adviser  to  the  treaty  commission:  “It 

will  be  the  last  service  I shall  render  my  Order  or  my 
country.  As  God  wills.” 

He  could  now  add  a postscript  to  that;  another 
mission  was  beckoning  to  him. 

This  had  to  do  with  the  newest  Canadians,  the  in- 
rushing  tide  of  European  peasant  settlers  drawn  by 
the  free  farms  of  the  west.  Of  these  the  Ruthenians 
probably  outnumbered  any  other  nationality.  They 
were  a good  thrifty  class  of  Slavs,  whose  industry  on 
northwest  homesteads  recommended  them  as  future 
citizens. 

Practically  all  of  these  were  Greek  Catholics  in 
full  adherence  to  Rome  and  the  Pontiff  there,  al- 


1900 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


m 


though  in  the  form  of  their  ceremonials  they  followed 
the  Ruthenian  rite  and  their  services  were  conducted 
in  their  own  language.  They  consequently  found 
themselves  in  a country  without  spiritual  directors 
of  their  own  language  and  rite,  suddenly  transplanted 
from  the  surveillance  of  a too-paternal  feudal  Govern- 
ment to  a new  land  of  few  restraints — to  freedom  in 
such  large  measure  that  it  was  intoxicating  and  apt  to 
be  unwisely  used.  The  transplanted  Slavs  were  now 
more  than  ever  in  need  of  moral  guidance. 

Prosletysing  forces  at  work  in  their  ranks  were 
producing  a religious  indifference  and  scepticism 
which  Father  Lacombe  and  his  confreres  viewed  with 
indignation  and  alarm.  It  was  felt  that  an  appeal 
for  Ruthenian  Catholic  priests  and  funds  to  support 
them  must  be  made  to  Rome  and  to  Austria.  Father 
Lacombe  in  accordance  with  his  mission  of  Datur- 
omnibus  was  selected  as  the  most  suitable  ambassador. 

So  the  opening  of  the  Twentieth  century  finds 
the  aged  hermit  of  the  foothills  still  pursuing  medi- 
tations chosen  a decade  earlier  to  fit  him  for  the  next 
world — but  weighing  them  as  he  waited  in  ante- 
chambers of  the  Papal  and  Austrian  courts,  and  amid 
a whirl  of  journeying  that  brought  him  from  France 
to  Italy — to  Germany,  Austria,  Belgium  and  back 
again  to  France. 

He  sailed  from  Halifax  on  March  29,  and  on 
Easter  Monday  was  at  Viarmes  where  three  Cures 
spent  the  evening  with  him  and,  he  said,  made  him 
talk  so  much  that  he  was  utterly  fatigued  and  had 


398 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1900 


an  attack  of  indigestion  from  it.  This  is  the  only 
indication  in  any  of  his  letters  of  how  great  a tax  was 
made  upon  his  nervous  force  by  the  hours  of  eauserie 
which  his  European  acquaintances  demanded. 

In  one  of  his  Paris  letters  there  is  a living  breath 
from  the  tomb  of  Tarte,  that  brilliant  likeable  but 
whimsical  political  genius,  who  bequeathed  to  the  Ca- 
nadian world  of  politics  the  “Business  is  business” 
maxim — as  well  as  the  frank  epigram — “Elections 
are  not  won  by  prayers  alone.” 

On  April  29th  Father  Lacombe  dined  at  the 
residence  of  the  Austrian  Commissioner  with  the  Hon. 
Mr.  Tarte,  who  was  then  Canada’s  representative  at 
the  Paris  Exposition.  Tarte  was  on  the  point  of 
leaving  for  London  to  attend  a banquet  to  be  pre- 
sided over  by  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  which  had 
been  arranged  in  connection  with  the  Colonial  con- 
tingents supplied  for  the  Boer  War. 

“Poor  Tarte,”  his  fellow-Canadian  comments  in  one  let- 
ter, “how  is  he  going  to  draw  himself  out  of  the  embarrassing 
position,  since  he  must  speak — he  who  was  so  opposed  in  Can- 
ada to  the  sending  of  the  troops.  He  only  said  when  I made 
these  remarks  to  him:  6 Wait,  I am  going  to  play  with  those 

Englishmen.5  ” 

“I  feel  rather  indisposed,”  he  jots  in  his  diary  at 
Rome  on  June  15.  “The  extreme  heat  has  begun 
— but  bon  courage! — for  the  old  man!” 

Only  once  during  the  entire  trip  does  the  note- 
book record  a restful  day:  “Je  me  repose ” is  all 

he  writes  that  day. 


1900 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


399 


Cardinal  Satolli  and  his  colleagues,  Rampolla 
Ledochowski  and  Orelia,  were  in  turn  besieged  by  the 
venerable  Canadian  pilgrim  anxious  to  forward  with 
them  his  plea  for  the  Ruthenian  Catholics  in  Canada, 

In  July  he  was  back  in  Paris  and  Brittany. 
Whilst  in  Paris  he  was  actively  at  work  helping  the 
young  Canadian  colony  there  to  secure  a chapel. 
Thence  his  itinerary  led  him  to  Anvers  and  Brussels 
on  matters  pertaining  to  Belgium  emigration  to 
Canada — to  Cologne,  Hunfeld  and  Munich — every- 
where delivering  lectures  to  colleges  of  students  or 
priests,  always  seeking  new  recruits  for  the  missions, 
new  funds  for  their  upkeep. 

His  letters  of  this  period  contain  numerous 
snatches  of  Latin,  owing  to  the  fact  that  this  was 
his  one  means  of  conversing  with  many  of  his  hosts 
in  Austria  and  Germany.  His  other  lingual  accom- 
plishments— his  French  and  Cree,  Saulteau  and 
Blackfoot,  and  what  he  calls  his  “good  English  of 
the  Nor’ -West” — avail  him  nothing. 

One  letter  tells  its  own  story  of  little  economies. 
His  journey — pending  a decision  from  Rome  upon 
the  Austrian  enterprise — had  been  unexpectedly 
prolonged,  and  his  funds  are  limited.  He  writes  to 
Bishop  Legal: 

“To  make  the  most  of  my  purse  I travel  third  ciass  and  I 
eat  crusts.  The  third  class  cars  are  not  as  uncomfortable 
as  they  were  some  years  ago.  . . . Do  not  be  afraid  for 

my  travelling  expenses.  That  is  my  affair.  I shall  man- 
age, as  always  in  the  past,  so  that  neither  you  nor  any  one 


400 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1900 


of  the  others  will  have  anything  to  pay  until  my  return  to 
St.  Albert.” 

He  evidently  finds  the  means  to  travel  further,  for 
his  next  letter  under  date  of  September  9th,  is  from 
a Franciscan  monastery  at  Vienna: 

“What  are  you  thinking  as  you  look  on  the  address  of  this 
letter?  How  much  I have  to  tell  you,  and  through  you  to 
our  venerable  Bishop  and  missionaries.  Truly  I do  not  know 
where  to  begin — I have  been  busy  with  so  many  things.  But 
now,  the  old  missionary  in  Austria!  . . . It  is  very  true 

that  I devour  distances,  as  you  say.  ...  I intend  to  see 
the  Emperor  and  the  Premier.  What  audacity  on  my  part ! 
. . . I speak  Latin  like  a tutor,  when  they  do  not  under- 
stand me  otherwise.  . . .” 

After  a lengthy  postscript  concerning  his  plans 
of  work  and  travel  he  concludes  archly — 

“ Enfin , is  this  not  enough  for  to-day?  I kiss  your  hand 
— that  is  the  fashion  here.  What  a country!  What  peo- 
ple! A.  L.” 

He  has  at  last  reached  the  Austrian  government, 
and  is  endeavouring  to  have  their  co-operation  in  his 
mission  to  Europe.  He  had  several  interviews  with 
the  Premier,  M.  Golowkowski,  whom  he  described 
as  “a  handsome  amiable  man  who  spoke  French,  and 
in  whose  office  I feel  perfectly  at  home.” 

He  assures  Bishop  Legal  that  since  he  has  come 
in  direct  communication  with  the  Government — “I 
am  as  much  at  ease  with  them  as  I am  with  my  own 


1900 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


401 


at  Ottawa.”  . . . “The  ministers  and  deputies,” 

he  writes,  “all  speak  French. 

“The  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  a Pole,  has  been  very 
amiable  and  interests  himself  greatly  in  our  question  of  Ru- 
thenians  and  Gallicians.” 

He  now  decided  to  make  a personal  visit  to  the 
Province  of  Galicia  from  which  the  Ruthenians  had 
emigrated.  The  Austrian  Government,  which 
through  its  ambassador  at  Rome  had  been  interested 
in  Father  Lacombe  and  his  mission,  defrayed  the 
expenses  of  his  journey;  likewise  those  of  the  Mother 
Provincial  of  the  Franciscan  Nuns  and  a companion- 
sister. 

The  former,  a brilliant  and  zealous  woman  and  a 
member  of  one  of  the  leading  families  of  Austria, 
had  promised  Father  Lacombe  to  secure  in  Galicia 
several  nuns  for  orphanages  in  Canada.  She  was 
also  to  act  as  his  interpreter  and,  to  some  degree  by 
her  family  influence,  as  his  advocate. 

He  departed  for  Lemberg,  armed  with  letters  to 
the  Galician  government  and  Bishop  Szeptickyi  of 
Stanislaus,  the  latter  a warm  personal  friend  of  the 
Pope.  At  Leopoli,  Stanislaus,  Pryzenyls  he  was  al- 
ways the  guest  of  his  brethren,  the  Ruthenian  ec- 
clesiastics, and  most  cordially  welcomed  by  them. 

He  made  the  best  possible  use  of  his  time  and  oppor- 
tunities, and  returned  from  his  mission  successful  in 
everything  he  sought. 


XVI 


On  his  return  to  Vienna  Father  Lacombe  re- 
ceived a command  to  the  Court.  The  impressively 
large  packet  containing  the  invitation  was  addressed 
to  the 

Rev.  Alberttjs  Lacombe, 

Vicar-General  of  Canada. 

In  it  His  Majesty  the  Emperor  summoned  the 
old  missionary  to  an  audience  on  the  following  morn- 
ing. 

Father  Lacombe  was  then  the  guest  of  the  Countess 
Melanie  Zichy  (nee  Princesse  Metternich).  His 
hostess  thoughtfully  prepared  him  for  possible  disap- 
pointment in  his  audience. 

“You  will  see  in  our  Emperor  a man  of  sorrows/’ 
she  told  him.  “It  is  written  in  his  face.  He  never 
laughs  and  rarely  talks.  The  mile-stones  of  his  life 
have  been  made  of  grief — the  last  was  the  assassina- 
tion of  his  wife,  the  Empress.” 

The  next  morning,  when  the  carriage  came  around 
to  convey  him  to  the  Imperial  Palace  the  Countess 
with  filial  tenderness  looked  the  old  missionary  over 
with  anxious  eyes  to  see  that  he  was  fittingly  garbed 
to  meet  the  Emperor.  The  scrutiny  was  satisfactory. 
Even  then  at  seventy-four  the  habitual  and  rather 

402 


1900 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


403 


notable  neatness  of  the  old  priest  had  not  deserted 
him. 

But  a thought  suddenly  and  very  naturally  flashed 
to  the  mind  of  a lady  of  the  court.  . . . “This 

old  Canadian  priest  is  distinguished  in  his  Canada. 
— Where  are  his  decorations?”  She  voiced  her  solici- 
tude. 

The  old  priest  smiled.  ...  In  Canada  who 
had  ever  thought  of  conferring  orders  or  decorations 
upon  an  old  missionary? 

Then  flashing  suddenly  from  gay  to  wistful — as 
was  his  wont — he  pulled  the  wooden  and  brass  cross 
of  the  Oblate  Order  from  his  sash.  It  was  the 
crucifix  with  which  he  had  times  innumerable  blessed 
his  Indian  proteges.  It  was  the  same  he  had  upheld 
to  invoke  peace  that  memorable  dawn  between  the 
warring  Crees  and  Blackfeet : 

“Hah!”  he  said  smiling  gravely,  “with  this  I have 
been  decorated  for  fifty  years.  It  is  my  only  decora- 
tion.” 

The  Countess  smiled  through  tears.  Then — 

“Go,”  she  said  reverently — tenderly.  “You  could 
not  have  a higher.” 

He  arrived  at  the  Palace.  His  quick  eyes  took 
in  all  its  magnificence  and  transmitted  vivid  impres- 
sions to  his  open  mind.  It  was  more  superb  than 
anything  he  had  ever  seen  before — rich  with  a splen- 
dour that  he  felt  should  only  be  lavished  upon  a House 
of  God.  It  was  magnificent — this  palace  of  an  un- 
happy line  of  Kings. 


404 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1900 


“The  guards,  the  gilded  chambers !”  he  exclaims 
in  his  diary — and  stops  there. 

Through  many  rich  corridors  and  between  stately 
functionaries  he  passed  to  reach  the  audience-room, 
entering  this  alone. 

He  found  the  Emperor  there — a stately  old  man 
with  light  brown  hair  silvering,  with  a mouth  and 
beard  like  the  men  of  the  House  of  Hapsburg  and 
with  indescribably  sad  eyes.  The  figure  of  the  man 
fixed  then  on  Father  Lacombe’s  sensitive  mind  so 
excited  his  sympathies  that  in  speaking  of  it  after- 
ward his  voice  always  gravened: 

“The  Countess  told  me  he  was  a man  of  sorrows 
— I understood  that  when  I saw  him.” 

The  little  old  Canadian  priest,  whose  one  deco- 
ration was  his  worn  crucifix,  bowed  his  silvered  head 
and  bent  shoulders  before  the  Emperor;  then  told 
him  of  his  mission  in  seeking  aid  for  his  Ruthenian 
brethren,  funds  to  build  chapels  and  priests  to  minis- 
ter in  them  to  retain  these  people  in  their  Ancient 
Faith.  He  answered  the  Hapsburg’s  questions 
about  the  welfare  of  his  former  subjects,  about  the 
Government  and  the  Church  hierarchy  to  which  they 
were  now  allied. 

But  the  splendour,  the  coldness  and  formality  of 
the  interview  numbed  the  man  of  the  Plains.  The 
Countess  had  done  well  to  prepare  him. 

Throughout  the  audience  the  Emperor  remained 
standing;  always  grave  and  cold  and  courteous. 
The  rich  and  original  personality  of  the  Canadian 


1900 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


405 


that  had  so  charmed  his  Ministers  was  without  in- 
terest to  him.  Had  not  most  things  lost  their  con- 
cern for  him? 

Their  discourse  never  unbent  to  the  charming 
causerie  others  enjoyed  in  contact  with  Father  La- 
combe.  The  Emperor  was  not  seeking  thrills  of 
human  interest:  his  Old  Man  of  the  Sea  forbade  that. 

The  conversation  died  of  inanition:  Father  La- 
combe  bowed  himself  from  the  audience-chamber, 
struck  to  his  soul  with  pity  for  the  man  within — 
glad  in  every  fibre  of  his  warm  old  heart  that  he 
was  not  the  Emperor  of  Austria. 

His  last  days  on  the  continent  were  busily  oc- 
cupied. At  the  Neuf-Chateau,  Luxembourg,  he  ad- 
dressed a large  assemblage;  in  Paris  he  bought  a 
magic  lantern  with  slides  illustrating  the  Bible  his- 
tory and  catechism.  Numerous  small  commissions 
were  performed  for  his  brethren,  and  by  the  middle 
of  October  he  arrived  in  London  in  the  midst  of  a 
fog,  which  he  describes  as  night  at  midday. 

Here  he  was  entertained  by  Lord  Mountstephen ; 
and  the  quondam  pastor  of  St.  Mary’s,  Calgary,  with 
the  ex-President  of  the  C.  P.  R.,  smiled  to  recall  the 
drama  of  their  exchange  of  office  that  day  by  the 
Bow  when  both  were  younger.  The  Comte  de 
Bassano  and  his  wife  brought  their  interesting  old 
friend  again  to  their  home  for  their  own  and  his  en- 
joyment. 

On  October  29th  he  witnessed  the  arrival  of  the 
soldiers  from  Africa.  A splendid  procession  he  felt 


406 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1901 


it  was,  though  he  was  not  a little  amused  to  find  the 
staid  English  “losing  their  heads  on  this  occasion!” 
But  back  of  the  glory,  the  drums,  the  bonfires  and 
acclamations,  the  eyes  of  the  old  man  were  wet  with 
pity  at  “the  disorder  of  hell  in  the  streets,  and  the 
shame  and  sadness  of  the  sight  of  drunken  women 
and  their  companions.” 

A pleasant  note  of  invitation  from  Lady  Aber- 
deen, whom  he  still  addressed  as  “ma  grande 
cousine ” or  “my  sister,”  brought  him  to  meet  the 
former  Governor-General  and  his  wife  at  their  town- 
house  on  Grosvenor  Street  on  October  27th. 

With  their  customary  sympathy  this  genial  pair 
heard  the  old  man’s  plaints  of  his  sadly-interrupted 
Hermitage,  and  in  half- jest — whole-earnest — offered 
him  the  hospitality  of  their  Scotch  estate,  where  he 
might  find  a little  nook  sufficiently  retired  from  the 
world  to  end  his  days  in  a manner  quite  convenable 
and  to  his  ideal. 

But  while  his  soul  still  inhabited  his  restless,  en- 
ergetic house  of  fire  and  clay  he  knew  there  could 
be  no  place  of  abode  for  him  but  the  wide  West. 


January,  1901,  found  him  back  at  St.  Mary’s  busy 
with  routine  parochial  duties  and  especial  care  for 
the  Metis  who  hung  about  the  poorer  quarters  of 
the  town. 

“Me  voila  encore  lance  dans  une  foule  d'affaires!” 


The  Site  of  the  Hermitage  at  Fincher  Creek,  where  the  Mountains  Dip  Down 

into  the  Plains 


1901 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


407 


he  writes  on  the  21st  to  Bishop  Legal,  and  one  catches 
in  this  a note  of  triumph  that  he  is  still  capable  of 
being  a man  of  affairs.  All  is  not  a bed  of  roses 
for  him,  however:  alcoholism  and  its  consequences 
have  brought  too  many  of  his  Metis  to  the  town-gaol 
and  into  evil  ways  generally. 

“Pauvre  Metis F he  writes  in  the  same  letter. 
“How  it  hurts  me  to  see  them  so  demoralized.  . . . 

But  I will  move  heaven  and  earth  to  redeem  them.” 

In  another  letter  this  month  there  is  a quaint 
flavour  of  the  old  days  of  toil  and  hardships  he  had 
known — of  the  log  huts  and  earthen  floors  and  parch- 
ment windows.  . . . He  complains  that  a new 

and  energetic  Cure  of  one  town  parish  is  painting 
the  exterior  of  his  outbuildings! 

His  old  heart  is  indignant  at  the  extravagance, 
when  the  diocese  has  so  many  poor  missions  where 
men  need  even  the  necessaries  of  life.  Father  La- 
combe  was  still  only  twenty  years  away  from  the 
mud-chinked  hut  at  Macleod. 

The  diocesan  strong-box  gaped  in  emptiness ; 
F ather  Lacombe  in  his  anxieties  turned  again  to 
good  friends  in  the  East.  From  one  he  received  this 
reply: 

“Montreal,  19th  May,  1901. 

“ Dear  Father  Lacombe: 

“I  have  been  running  about  everywhere  and  have  not  until 
now  had  an  opportunity  to  reply  to  your  letters  of  the  19th 
and  26th  April.  I am  sorry  to  learn  that  you  are  in  debt. 


408 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1901 


I suppose  it  worries  you  because  you  are  not  used  to  it  as  I 
am.  I am  nearly  always  in  debt.  It  is  the  creditors  who 
should  be  unhappy,  not  you.  However  since  you  are  not 
used  to  it,  I send  you  a small  cheque  towards  helping  you 
out.  . . .” 

With  this  charming  note  the  genial  President  of 
the  Canadian  Pacific  had  enclosed  a handsome 
cheque. 

This  spring  Father  Lacombe  wrote  to  Bishop 
Grandin  about  Bishop  Legal’s  desire  that  he  should 
take  charge  of  Macleod  and  a couple  of  outlying 
missions. — “The  wishes  of  my  Superiors  have  always 
been  orders  to  me,”  the  imperious  old  man  writes 
— oblivious  of  how  often  he  has  dictated  the  wishes 
of  his  Superiors.  He  adds  a slight  grumble  that 
just  as  he  had  felt  himself  “seated  at  my  fireside — 
I find  it  necessary  to  make  my  bundle  again.” 

He  ends  by  accepting  the  responsibility,  for  in- 
deed there  is  no  other  priest  free  to  take  it.  But 
on  May  27,  again  a wanderer  from  his  fireside,  Father 
Lacombe  writes  airily  from  New  Westminster,  pooh- 
poohing  the  idea  of  Archbishop  Langevin  that  he 
must  now  be  bound  for  Australia — seeking  a new 
continent  to  conquer  as  a beggar  for  his  beloved 
missions. 

On  his  return  to  Calgary  Father  Lacombe  decided 
to  accept  the  invitation  of  his  old  friend,  Archbishop 
Ireland,  to  attend  the  golden  jubilee  of  the  diocese 
of  St.  Paul.  Father  Lacombe  had  associations  with 
St.  Paul  for  more  than  fifty  years:  he  had  known 


1901 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


409 


Bishop  Loras  and  the  gentle  Ravoux.  He  had  oc- 
cupied the  latter’s  coffin-bed  and  spent  the  first 
month  of  his  priestly  ministry  there.  He  felt  he 
must  attend  the  Jubilee. 

Meanwhile  the  financial  affairs  of  the  diocese,  which 
had  been  going  from  bad  to  worse,  had  now  reached 
a crisis  of  tenuity.  F at  her  Leduc,  the  diocesan 
bursar,  investigating  conditions,  finds  that  with  the 
best  possible  management  all  the  means  at  their  dis- 
posal for  the  next  twelve  months  can  only  meet  the 
needs  of  two. 

Father  Lacombe,  becoming  aware  of  this,  con- 
cluded that  nothing  remained  but  for  him  to  take 
up  the  unenviable  role  of  beggar  and  go  east  with 
his  hands  outstretched  again. 

In  August  he  is  in  Montreal  with  Father  Therien, 
the  supervisor  of  his  Metis  colony.  Fie  writes  that 
he  is  preparing  a grand  campaign.  Even  if  he  comes 
as  a beggar  he  does  not  intend  to  appear  without  the 
eclat  he  now  craves  more  with  each  year  that  comes 
to  burden  him.  Perhaps  his  failing  vigour  requires 
the  eclat  as  a stimulant.  He  has  at  least  begun  to 
show  his  age  very  clearly  in  his  shrinking  muscles 
and  tired  steps.  He  no  longer  has  the  shoulders  of 
an  ox  or  the  old  unflagging  energy. 

The  campaign  opened  with  an  appeal  published  in 
the  French  papers  throughout  Quebec.  In  this  he 
recalled  the  fine  unselfish  part  Quebec  had  played  in 
the  earliest  days  of  the  western  missions.  He 
quoted  Pope  Leo’s  words  to  himself  the  previous  year, 


410 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1901 


when  in  an  audience  he  deplored  the  diminution  of 
the  mission-funds  from  France;  and  the  Pope  had 
said — 

“Let  New  France  support  these  missions.” 
Finally  Father  Lacombe  quoted  his  own  stimulant 
— the  farewell  words  of  his  old  protector  in  1849: 
“If  God  is  with  you,  who  can  be  against  you?” 
So  again  the  old  missionary  had  thrown  his  soul 
into  his  work.  The  immediate  results  of  his  appeal 
were  sufficiently  gratifying,  and  he  writes  com- 
placently to  Bishop  Legal: 

64 You  will  see  in  the  newspapers  of  to-day  my  grand  coup , 
my  appeal — C'est  serieuoc.  . . . Ex-Governor  Royal  has 

just  been  here.  He  declared  to  me  that  he  had  not  believed 
I could  make  a genuine  coup  d'etat.  Excuse  his  naivete : but 
it  is  the  kind  Saviour  and  your  prayers  that  have  given  me 
this  strength  and  ability.” 

Like  a capable  generalissimo,  he  adapts  himself  to 
modern  and  urban  conditions  in  his  campaign.  He 
cannot  attract  or  hold  the  attention  of  people  here, 
as  he  did  on  the  Plains,  by  riding  out  around  the 
camps  on  a cayuse,  holding  aloft  his  Red  Cross  flag 
and  chanting  the  Indian  crier’s — “Oyez!  Oyez F 
Instead  he  selects  a daily  paper,  which  in  return 
for  securing  news  of  his  work  at  first  hand  promises 
to  keep  his  campaign  before  the  public  in  an  efficient 
manner.  It  evidently  was  La  Presse , for  when  his 
work  was  half  through  he  writes : “Le  J ournal  is  my 
organ  at  present,  as  I have  parted  company  with 


1901 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


411 


La  Presse.  They  had  become  too  exacting,  always 
wanting  the  prime  of  my  news.” 

His  force  of  two  he  soon  found  inadequate,  and 
he  urges  Bishop  Legal  to  join  him.  His  work  will 
be  greatly  strengthened  by  this  relief  corps,  he 
states. — “Allons,  Monseigneur  de  Pogla !”  he  en- 
treats. 

“C’est  serieux;  still  it  must  be  done,”  he  writes  later. 
“There  must  be  no  more  flinching.  But  prepare 
yourself — it  is  a very  hard  trade.”  And  therewith  he 
assigns  his  Bishop  to  an  assault  upon  the  large  cities, 
while  he  and  Father  Therien,  and  possibly  Father 
Royer,  sweep  through  the  country. 

In  letter  after  letter  he  continues  his  persuasions, 
but  fruitlessly.  The  coadjutor  could  work  like  a 
navvy  at  home;  he  could  live  half -nourished  on  the 
fare  of  his  poorest  Indian  missions  and  cheerfully 
share  his  last  dried  meat  with  a starving  Indian — 
but  he  could  not  easily  make  up  his  mind  to  beg; 
there  were  too  many  humiliations  in  the  trade. 

Father  Lacombe  sends  him  $650.  It  is  his  earliest 
harvest,  and  he  hopes  the  sight  of  it  will  be  an  in- 
ducement to  ceMonseigneur  de  Pogla !’ 

One  Sunday  he  personally  distributed  his  printed 
appeal  to  a congregation  in  church,  and  then  writes 
— “Am  I not  audacious?  But  they  pardon  me  be- 
cause of  my  white  hair”;  and  again — “Everywhere 
I am  received  almost  like  a Bishop,  in  partibus  in - 
fidelium . It  is  fabulous.” 

By  November  20th  he  and  his  assistants  have  trans- 


412 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1901 


mitted  $2000  to  Father  Leduc  “to  begin  to  fill  up 
the  Gulf  of  St.  Albert.” 

In  October  Father  Lacombe  was  joined  by  Bishop 
Legal,  and  he  would  have  been  happy  then  but  for 
the  miserable  attacks  of  a Quebec  journalist.  The 
latter  brought  forward  the  charge  that  Father 
Lacombe  and  the  other  western  missionaries  ad- 
ministered their  finances  badly,  and  that  the  money 
being  so  laboriously  collected  from  Quebec  parishes 
would  be  wasted  in  useless  works  for  undeserving  half- 
breeds  already  beyond  reclamation.  He  also  ques- 
tioned Father  Lacombe’s  authority  to  beg. 

The  attacks  upon  Father  Lacombe  and  his  work 
only  ceased  after  November  27,  when  Bishop  Legal 
called  in  person  upon  the  journalist  and  with  other 
arguments  presented  him  with  Bishop  Grandin’s  let- 
ter to  the  bishops  of  Quebec,  stating  that  the  col- 
lections made  by  Father  Lacombe  on  his  authority 
were  to  be  appropriated  to  the  general  needs  of  St. 
Albert  diocese. 

To  Bishop  Grandin  his  old  comrade  wrote: 

“Thank  you  again  in  behalf  of  us  all  for  the  beautiful  let- 
ter, in  which  you  defend  us  so  fraternally  against  crooked 
minds  like  this  — — . You  tell  me  I must  treat  him 
gently.  No.  . . . I will  not  spare  him,  and  I do  this 
in  the  interest  of  our  good  cause.  He  is  a creature  who  must 
necessarily  be  exposed.  He  is  filled  with  pride  and  self-love, 
notwithstanding  his  fallacious  pretext  of  being  the  defender 
of  the  Truth.  Let  him  not  attack  me  any  more,  this  rascal. 
I am  watching  for  him.” 


1902 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


413 


Which  goes  to  show  that  the  great-hearted  Datur - 
omnibus  could  still  cherish  a very  human  resentment 
on  occasions  and  deliver  a deserved  reprimand  as 
energetically  as  ever  an  old  chief  of  the  Plains  lashed 
with  his  scorn  an  insolent  young  brave. 

Early  in  February,  1902,  Bishop  Legal  was  re- 
called to  St.  Albert  by  the  serious  illness  of  Bishop 
Grandin.  On  February  13th  Father  Lacombe 
wrote  him: 

“I  take  no  recreation  with  my  brethren.  . . . Tell 

him  if  he  still  lives,  my  venerable  friend  and  Bishop,  how  my 
heart  is  grieved  because  I am  not  with  him.  He  knows  how 
I cherish  him  and  will  cherish  him  to  the  end.  But  notwith- 
standing your  invitations  the  greatest  proof  of  m}^  devotion 
will  be  to  stay  here,  working  for  the  good  of  the  diocese  of 
St.  Albert.  At  least  that  is  what  I think  in  my  heart  of  an 
old  missionary. 

“But — ah,  my  God,  how  sad  I feel!  Dear  Bishop  Grandin! 
Is  he  then  going?  . . . Tell  him  a farewell  from  me  till 

I see  him  again,  in  the  Fatherland.  Embrace  him  for  me,  I 
pray  you.” 

For  a time  then  he  was  sadly  confused  and 
troubled  by  two  letters  which  reached  him  from  the 
two  bishops.  The  younger  man  in  well-meant  kind- 
ness urges  him  to  come  and  see  his  friend  again  be- 
fore the  end.  The  other,  dictated  by  Bishop 
Grandin  to  his  nephew,  advises  Father  Lacombe  not 
to  leave  his  present  mission — and  the  bishop  sent  a 
last  adieu  to  his  old  comrade. 

“Truly,  between  you — you  tear  my  heart.  . . .” 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1902 


414 

Father  Lacombe  writes;  but  out  of  the  chaos  comes 
the  determination  to  match  the  sacrifice  of  his  old 
friend.  He  writes: 

“I  do  not  believe  I should  go  to  St.  Albert.  I 
shall  stay  to  the  end.”  Again  he  writes:  “The 

thought  of  my  suffering  friend,  praying  for  me,  comes 
to  encourage  me  when  I ascend  a pulpit  to  beg.” 

He  now  sends  $2000  more  to  Father  Leduc,  to 
be  divided  as  follows:  one-quarter  for  the  Metis 
colony;  one-quarter  for  the  diocesan  seminary  and 
one-half  for  the  needs  of  all  missions  throughout  the 
diocese. 

With  Bishop  Legal  back  in  the  west  Father  La- 
combe finally  had  to  “make  the  assault”  upon  the 
Ancient  Capital  himself.  An  impressionist  letter 
picturing  his  first  Sunday  there  is  somewhat  in- 
coherent, but  delightfully  naive: 

“Done,  it  was  at  the  Basilica  that  the  old  Chief  made  his 
entree  in  the  midst  of  a fine  assemblage  of  clergy,  students 
from  the  Great  and  Small  Seminaries  and  the  University.  In 
the  crowded  congregation  I noticed  Sir  Hector  Langevin,  M. 
de  la  Bruyere,  and  doubtless  my  friend 1 . . . was 

there.” 

“ ‘ Petierunt  panem  et  non  erat  qui  frageret  eis!9 

“ ‘Dear  friends  of  our  young  diocese  of  St.  Albert,  I come 
before  you  with  the  permission  of  your  Archbishop  and  as 
the  ambassador  of  my  Bishops.  I have  been  told  that  in  your 
city  you  do  not  like  long  sermons : that  if  I wish  to  be  agree- 
1 The  Quebec  journal,  from  whose  attacks  he  had  suffered. 


1902 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


415 


able  and  make  a good  collection,  I must  be  brief.  C’est  cela. 
I am  going  to  be  brief.’ 

“Everybody  in  the  church  smiled.  It  was  with  this  first 
blast  that  I opened  fire  in  the  old  Basilica,  the  mother  of 
churches  in  New  France — ‘To  arms,  my  friends,  open  your 
purses.  Furnish  ammunition  to  sustain  us  against  the  at- 
tacks of  adversaries.  If  the  feet  of  the  evangelizers  are 
beautiful,  et  cetera — how  beautiful  are  the  hands  of  our  bene- 
factors, who  place  in  ours  the  mite  of  the  Propagation  of 
Faith,  with  the  good  wishes  of  our  friends  in  Can- 
ada. . . .’ 

“They  smiled  no  longer.  They  wept  with  emotion.  Abbe 
Marais  said  to  me  at  dinner:  ‘You  opened  the  cataracts  of 

the  eyes  and  the  heart.’ 

“Pardon,  my  Lords,  this  recital  of  the  doings  of  your  old 
Chief — result,  $434.” 

One  day  this  spring  there  came  to  Bishop  Legal 
from  his  mendicant-friend  an  amusing  outburst  of 
indignation  over  the  seeming  extravagances  of  the 
newer  generation  of  missionaries.  The  Bishop  had 
written  him  asking  special  assistance  for  one  of  these, 
who  had  been  assigned  to  a city  parish  and  who  felt 
he  should  approximate  eastern  conditions  in  the  up- 
keep of  the  rectory  and  church. 

Father  Lacombe  is  evidently  of  another  way  of 
thinking : 

“.  . . This  dear  Father  . . . !”  he  writes  to  the 

Bishop.  “It  is  unbelievable  there  could  be  a being  so  short- 
sighted. Listen — I am  going  to  write  him  a letter.  Imagine 
— to  go  and  buy  an  altar  and  put  up  a shed  for  his  cow,  when 
we  have  still  so  much  to  pay  on  the  church !’ 


416 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1902 


“But  no,  I assure  you,  I shall  not  send  him  a cent.  How 
droll  he  is!  Now  how  will  he  collect  enough  to  pay  off  this 
debt?  He  is  naive  and  fool  enough  to  believe  that  I should 
settle  it.  The  poor  man ! 

“Truly,  here  is  something  to  shock  my  Reverend  Father 
Superior.” 

Yet  when  he  had  given  expression  to  his  feelings 
by  raising  small  tempests  like  this — and  the  bishop 
or  somebody  would  remind  him  that  times  had 
changed  in  the  west;  that  mud-floored  houses,  dried 
meat  menus  and  rough  board  altars  must  be  con- 
sidered out-of-date,  at  least  in  Edmonton,  Calgary 
and  Lethbridge,  he  would  relent.  Then  he  would 
generously  help  the  young  priest  engaged  in  making 
his  poor  parish  buildings  adequate. 

His  old  territory  of  Alberta  had  already  entered 
upon  the  remarkable  period  of  development  ushered 
in  by  the  new  century.  Motor-cars  were  beginning 
to  disturb  the  quiet  of  the  Indian  trails  along  the 
Bow  and  the  Old  Man’s  River.  Elevators  were 
everywhere  rising  on  the  level  horizon.  The  Age  of 
Progress  was  insolently  thrusting  itself  upon  the 
perceptions  of  the  old  Chief  of  the  foothills;  but  he 
yet  blandly  refused  to  recognize  it. 


XVII 


While  the  mendicant  missionary  made  his  way 
from  parish  to  parish  of  Quebec  his  old  comrade-in- 
arms  was  climbing  the  last  stretch  of  the  Trail, 
serenely  waiting  for  the  close  of  a life  which  many 
undemonstrative  westerners  have  accounted  exalted 
in  its  simple  goodness  and  thought  for  Humanity. 

He  was  nearing  the  gates  of  the  Fatherland,  but 
found  the  last  steps  of  the  trail  very  painful,  as  the 
worn-out  diseased  body  clung  to  its  spirit.  When  he 
could  not  conceal  his  agony  from  friends  at  his  bed- 
side he  would  smile  and  quote  LeMaistre : 

“If  the  warrior  thanks  the  general  who  sends  him  to  the 
assault,  why  should  we  not  as  well  thank  God  who  makes  us 
suffer?” 

As  a young  priest  with  a lifetime  of  achievement 
before  him  he  had  faced  death  bravely  in  that  awful 
winter  night  on  Great  Slave  Lake.  He  welcomed  it 
now  with  smiles. 

It  was  a solemnly  beautiful  drama  of  Death  that 
was  enacted  in  the  bare  sleeping-room  of  St.  Albert’s 
bishop.  . . . The  end  came  at  sunrise  on  June 

3rd,  when  as  the  sun  rose,  mysteriously  overcoming  the 

417 


418 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1902 


mists  and  shadows  of  morning  twilight,  the  priestly 
soul  passed  on  to  a new  ministry — went  in  from  the 
shadowy  vestibule  of  Eternity  to  the  incomparable 
realities. 

Those  last  three  weeks  of  Bishop  Grandin’s  life 
diffused  about  St.  Albert  a new  strange  benediction, 
inexpressibly  touching  to  the  men  who  came  and  went. 
The  secret  of  this  perhaps  was  revealed  in  the 
Bishop’s  sole  remark  to  the  students  kneeling  at  his 
bedside: 

“My  children,  when  one  loves  God  dearly  one  has 
no  fear  of  death.  To  have  loved  and  served  God 
well — behold  that  is  all  that  remains  to  a man,  when 
the  End  comes  1” 


* * * 

Whilst  he  had  been  vigorously  pursuing  the  cam- 
paign for  funds,  Father  Lacombe  was  not  without 
consolation  from  another  quarter.  As  a result  of  his 
visit  to  Austria,  Father  Zoldach,  the  secretary  of  the 
Ruthenian  Bishop  of  Stanislaus,  had  come  to  Canada 
to  investigate  conditions. 

On  his  return  he  sent  out  four  Ruthenian  priests 
to  Manitoba.  This  summer  he  informed  Father 
Lacombe  that  several  missionaries  would  be  sent  to 
Alberta. 

Moreover  his  new  collections  were  particularly 
satisfactory.  Before  February  23,  1902  he  had  to- 
gether with  his  aides  amassed  $12,754;  while  the  Hon. 


1903 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


419 


Rodolphe  Forget  had  contributed  in  addition  to  this 
$5000  for  a cl  lurch  in  the  Metis  colony. 

By  the  close  of  the  campaign,  which  took  place 
in  October  1902  at  St.  Sauveur’  in  Quebec,  Father 
Lacombe  had  poured  $21,000  into  the  empty  coffers 
of  St.  Albert. 

He  had  begged,  exhorted,  prayed  and  wept — 
though  these  waves  of  emotion  were  the  jest  of  his 
younger  brethren — and  this  $21,000  was  his  satisfy- 
ing harvest.  Looking  on  the  result  he  forgot  all  it 
had  cost  him. 

Before  the  New  Year  of  1903  he  was  again  es- 
tablished in  Calgary,  surveying  the  southern  district 
thoroughly  after  his  prolonged  absence.  He  was  not 
always  pleased. 

A critical,  almost  a carping  disapprobation  of  the 
methods  and  manner  of  the  newcomer  is  practi- 
cally inevitable  on  the  part  of  the  old-timer,  and 
has  marked  the  early  progress  of  every  portion  of  the 
west.  Our  pioneer  Oblate,  human  as  any  other  old- 
timer,  did  not  escape  this,  and  while  he  was  adjust- 
ing himself  to  new  conditions  his  heart  flamed  up  in 
apostolic  zeal  more  than  once  because  of  the  ways 
of  the  young  priests  fresh  from  seminaries  of  the 
east. 

His  particular  grudge  against  them  was  one  he  held 
against  all  the  pale-face  newcomers — an  indifference 
or  lack  of  sympathy  for  the  Metis,  who  still  clung  to 
the  skirts  of  the  towns.  He  was  himself  splendidly 
loyal  to  this  sad  remnant  of  a people;  and  the  more 


420 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1903 


pitiful  their  condition  the  more  passionate  an  advo- 
cate he  became — the  more  assidously  he  sought  them 
out  and  gave  of  his  charity,  spiritual  and  material. 

During  this  winter  Father  Louis  Lebret,  one  of 
the  old  Guard,  died  at  the  Grey  Nuns’  hospital  in 
Calgary  after  forty-four  years  of  service  in  the  west. 
Every  day  and  many  times  a day  before  the  end  came 
his  old  friend  trudged  over  from  the  Rectory,  leaving 
aside  his  memoirs  and  Metis  audiences  to  bring  com- 
fort to  the  dying  soldier  of  Christ.  When  he  died 
Father  Lacombe’s  arms  were  about  him. 

In  a letter  to  the  Superior-General  he  writes: 

“Father  Lebret,  wherever  he  passed,  went  his  way  doing 
good.  . . . He  was  the  type  of  the  true  priest,  a man 

of  God.  . . . Three  days  before  his  death  I gave  him 

the  Viaticum  of  the  wayfarer  into  other  worlds. 

Seated  in  his  arm-chair,  retaining  all  the  clearness  of  his  in- 
telligence ...  he  received  the  last  great  Sacrament  of 
the  dying. 

“Having  anointed  him  I said  to  him:  ‘My  brother  and 

dear  associate  in  these  missions,  show  us  how  an  Oblate 
should  die.’ 

“He  responded  to  all  the  prayers  and  having  received  the 
last  indulgences  it  was  then — after  his  thanksgiving  for  the 
Holy  Viaticum  received  that  morning — he  begged  us  to  take 
seats  near  him.  He  said  to  us : 

“ 4I  have  come  to  that  solemn  moment  of  life  when  I must 
take  leave  for  another  world.  I have  finished  the  course;  and 
my  God,  I come  to  Thee:  into  Thy  hands  I commend  my 
Spirit !’ 

“ ‘Father  Lacombe,  be  my  messenger  to  our  Father-General, 


1903 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


421 


whom  I salute  for  the  last  time  and  from  whom  I ask  pardon 
for  my  faults  and  failings.  From  you,  my  other  Superiors, 
I ask  forgiveness;  and  from  you,  my  brothers  in  religion — I 
beg  you  to  pardon  me  and  pray  for  me.’ 

“Then  taking  up  the  Cross  he  had  worn  so  long  as  an 
Oblate,  with  his  rosary  in  his  hands  and  his  scapular  on  his 
breast,  he  renewed  his  vows.  How  beautiful  it  was  to  witness 
such  a scene ! How  happy  I was  to  be  an  old  Oblate  and  a 
brother  of  this  apostle  of  our  missions ! 

“ ‘Go,’  I said  to  him  then,  ‘my  dear  brother,  depart  for  the 
true  Fatherland.  Go  and  ask  our  God  to  give  me  such  a 
death  as  this.’ 

“Yes,  truly  blessed  are  they  who  die  in  the  Lord.” 

During  this  winter — 1903 — Father  Lacombe’s  wor- 
ries over  the  financial  condition  of  his  colony  deep- 
ened. The  outlook  was  not  promising  and  it  was  not 
easy  for  even  his  robust  heart  to  throw  off  such  de- 
pression at  seventy-seven.  Most  of  his  letters  now 
are  tinged  with  the  growing  fear  of  failure. 

Writing  on  February  14th  to  Father  Therien,  the 
administrator  of  the  colony,  he  confesses  that  he  is 
“heartsick  of  this  problem.”  Having  expended  the 
$5000  collected  in  Quebec  for  the  Colony  they  are 
still  $1100  in  debt.  Must  they  sell  the  cattle,  close 
the  school  and  tell  the  colony  they  can  do  no  more 
for  them?  he  asks  pitifully. 

“And  people  will  say  then: 

“ ‘We  spoke  wisely  in  declaring  Father  Lacombe’s  plans 
were  only  Utopian.’  And  I,  hanging  my  head,  will  have  to 
say:  ‘Bonum  est  quia  humiliasti  me.  . . .’  ” 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1904 


His  troubles  jaundiced  his  vision.  He  can  think 
of  little  else.  A letter  of  March  13th  to  Bishop 
Legal  opens  with  the  growl — “It  is  dog-cold  here”; 
and  it  runs  to  an  apologetic  conclusion  through  several 
unrelieved  pages  of  details  about  his  troublesome 
colony. 

But  relief  is  approaching.  A number  of  letters 
to  Eastern  friends  have  resulted  in  a fresh  harvest 
for  the  master-beggar.  The  most  important  is  prob- 
ably one  from  Lord  Mountstephen,  enclosing  a 
cheque  for  $2000: 

“17  Cakxeton  House  Terrace,  S.  W.,  March  4th,  1903. 
“My  dear  Father  Lacombe: 

“I  duly  received  your  letter  of  21st  of  January.  I had  not 
forgotten  you  and  the  old  days  of  which  you  remind  me. 
The  photograph  you  gave  me  stands  on  my  table  and  never 
out  of  my  sight. 

“I  think  your  efforts  to  train  the  young  half-breeds  to  in- 
dustrial habits  so  that  they  may  be  able  to  gain  their  own 
living,  is  an  excellent  thing  to  do  and  a truly  religious 
work.  . . 

As  a result  of  this  kindly  communication  and  ac- 
companying gift  a letter  written  by  Father  Lacombe 
on  March  19th,  St.  Joseph’s  Day,  stands  out  in  warm 
relief  from  all  his  other  correspondence  of  this  period. 

It  glows  with  all  his  old  bonhomie  and  enthusiasm. 
It  is  replete  with  the  imagination  of  a child  who  still 
wanders  in  fairy -gar  dens — only  that  here  the  old 
priest’s  fancies  play  about  his  beloved  advocate-saint 


1904 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


and  image  him  wraith-like  invading  a London  draw- 
ing-room to  befriend  an  old  suppliant  at  Calgary. 

Truly  some  of  the  conquerors  of  the  West  have 
been  “men  with  the  hearts  of  Vikings  and  the  simple 
faith  of  a child.” 

“Calgary,  March  19th, 
“Feast  of  St.  Joseph. 

“ ‘Sowing  in  tears  we  reap  in  joy.’ 

“Yesterday  I went  into  our  private  chapel  before  the  most 
Holy  Sacrament,  with  St.  Joseph  and  St.  Anthony  of  Padua 
as  witnesses,  to  pour  out  the  excess  of  my  heart.  You  know 
that  I weep  easily  and  that  the  fountains  of  my  eyes  flow 
often  in  abundance.  Tempus  flendi  et  tempus  ridendi! 

“Many  times  during  my  long  life  I have  wept  with  grief, 
in  hardships,  contradictions  and  embarrassments ; as  likewise 
I have  shed  tears  in  moments  of  joy  and  satisfaction.  Voyez- 
vous , I have  lachrymal  fluid  for  all  occasions. 

“Done,  after  this  preamble,  this  is  to  say  that  yesterday — 
St.  J oseph’s  Eve, — this  great  saint  accompanied  by  the  Saint 
of  Padua  brought  me  this  cheque  for  $2,000,  which  he  had 
snatched  from  Lord  Mountstephen  in  the  city  of  London. 

“To-day  with  my  whole  heart  I am  giving  thanks  to  Heaven 
and  earth.  . . .” 

He  then  consigns  the  money  to  the  Bishop  to  be 
expended  for  the  Metis  colony,  and  he  continues  with 
a return  of  his  old  optimism: 

“It  is  for  this  undoubtedly  that  the  Good  Saviour  prolongs 
my  days,  to  aid  in  the  completion  of  this  redemption  which 
appears  impossible  to  all  the  world  but  ourselves. 

“P.  S.  I pray  you,  return  to  me  this  dear  letter  from  my 
noble  friend,  Mountstephen.” 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1904 


424 

Early  in  April  Father  Lacombe,  in  reply  to  a 
laughing  comment  about  his  foot-loose  wanderings, 
writes  gaily  to  the  Bishop : 

“Will  you  tell  the  Fathers  at  St.  Albert  that  I have  been 
closed  up  here  since  last  autumn  and  my  feet  ‘do  not  burn’ 
more  than  usual?  Band  of  humbugs  that  they  are!” 

Now  the  time  arrives  when  he  can  prove  to  his 
scoffing  friends  his  inclinations  as  a Hermit.  In 
April  a vicarial  council  was  held  at  St.  Albert  and  it 
was  there  decided  that  Father  Lacombe  might  now 
retire  to  his  Hermitage.  He  hailed  the  decision  with 
joy,  and  arranged  to  leave  Calgary  on  May  5th. 

He  had  watched  the  log-mission  grow  to  a prosper- 
ous parish.  He  had  helped  to  establish  an  excellent 
order  of  teaching-nuns — the  Faithful  Companions — 
and  the  Grey  Nuns’  Hospital.  He  felt  he  had 
earned  a release  from  further  work  in  Calgary. 

Years  ago  a gold  watch  had  been  presented  to  him 
by  the  Mayor  in  the  name  of  the  citizens  of  Calgary. 
Now  complimentary  addresses  and  tributes  of  respect 
were  paid  to  the  retiring  rector  in  such  numbers  that 
he  seems  to  have  grown  suddenly  aware  that  this  de- 
monstrative affectionate  Calgary  might  be  a more  de- 
sirable residence  than  he  had  imagined.  . . . 

Still  it  was  for  him — “Hourrah  your  le  Hermitage 
quand  meme!” 

Many  of  his  comrades  had  retired  or  were  dead. 
He  felt  that  at  his  age  it  was  proper,  pious  and  con- 
venable  that  he  too  should  go  into  retirement  to  pre- 


FATHER  LACOMBE 

“The  trail  he  walks  has  dipped  into  the  Vale  of  Sunset  ” 


1904 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


425 

pare  his  mind  for  another  world.  So  he  went. 
What  he  did  not  reckon  with  was  his  own  habit  of 
being  continually  and  ardently  seized  with  ideas  for 
the  advancement  of  the  missions,  and  the  necessity  of 
travelling  to  carry  out  his  ideas. 

On  May  7th  he  writes  the  bishop  from  Pincher  a 
letter  full  of  content  and  gladness.  He  is  at  liberty 
again,  and  rejoices  even  in  the  use  of  his  toy — the 
rubber  stamp  of  the  Hermitage — which  has  lain  idle 
since  it  was  dropped  so  unexpectedly  a decade  earlier 
to  take  his  place  at  Ottawa  as  Archbishop  Tache’s 
lieutenant.  He  writes: 

“My  Lord  and  Venerated  Friend: 

“ Enfin ! tandem!  at  last!  I have  arrived  at  this  dear  Her- 
mitage— the  goal  of  my  desires  for  a long  time,  as  you  know. 

“Yesterday  morning  at  six  o’clock  I went  up  the  hill.  I 
knelt  there  in  the  silence  of  the  dawn  at  the  feet  of  the  statue 
of  my  dear  St.  Michael — Quis  ut  Dens? — to  say  my  great 
Te  Deum.  I gave  the  Benedicamus  Domino  1 to  Father  Blan- 
chet  and  to  dear  Brother  Ryan. 

“You  know  this  was  a solemn  moment  for  your  old  pio- 
neer ! I went  up  to  the  Altar  in  the  pretty  church,  where  the 
morning  sun  came  in  through  those  splendid  windows  dazzling 
me.  And  then  in  the  organ  was  the  voice  of  St.  Michael  re- 
vealing himself  to  welcome  me  ...  !” 

He  regrets  the  tumble-down  condition  of  his  old 
Hermitage,  hut  declines  the  bishop’s  offer  to  have 
it  repaired,  as  the  building  is  not  worth  it.  Not  un- 


1 The  morning  salutation. 


4 26 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1904 


til  they  can  pay  the  $3000  already  owing  here  will  he 
build  a house,  he  says. 

A fortnight  later  however  finds  him  busy  on  plans 
for  a new  Hermitage,  as  “my  good  friend  Pat  Burns 
tells  me  to  give  him  the  bill.”  He  had  accepted  the 
kind  offer  of  Calgary’s  first  millionaire  gladly — as 
readily  and  as  free  of  embarrassment  as  he  would 
divest  himself  of  his  own  possessions  for  a poorer 
man. 

One  would  look  now  for  a few  months  repose  for 
the  hermit  in  his  Hermitage — a breathing-spell  at 
least  until  his  feet  begin  to  burn  again.  . . . 

But  Nature  itself  conspires  to  rout  him  out  from 
the  quiet  of  the  foothills. 

Shortly  after  his  return  the  terrible  disaster 
of  the  Frank  slide  occurred,  and  Father  Lacombe 
immediately  departed  for  Frank.  The  misery  of 
others  was  intolerable  to  him,  unless  he  could  at  once 
spend  himself  in  bringing  relief:  which  he  did  for 
several  days  in  the  desolate  mining-district. 

But  he  has  been  disturbed  from  his  Hermitage, 
and  once  on  the  road  with  his  modest  bundles — from 
sheer  force  of  habit  he  keeps  there.  He  visits  Cal- 
gary and  Macleod;  from  the  latter  point  he  writes 
imploring  the  bishop  to  transmit  a special  pastoral 
letter  to  their  poor  friends  the  Metis  who  are  only 
sinking  lower  and  lower.  The  Metis  are  always  “on 
his  back” — and  in  his  heart. 

From  this  time,  June  7th,  his  letters  show  a quick 
passage  of  the  hermit  from  Macleod  to  Cranbrook 


1904 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


m 


to  St.  Eugene,  Nelson  and  even  New  Westminster. 
Upon  his  return  to  the  Hermitage  he  devotes  a week 
to  his  annual  retreat  of  prayer  and  meditation,  and 
shortly  after  writes: 

“So  the  dear  Father  Vegreville  is  dead.  . . . Ha,  the 

old  ones  are  going!  It  is  for  this  I made  my  retreat.  One 
must  be  ready  for  all  possibilities.” 

In  September  he  made  a trip  down  the  Saskatche- 
wan on  a raft  and  later  by  democrat  from  Edmon- 
ton to  his  colony.  “Coute  que  coute  ” he  writes  the 
Bishop,  he  must  not  neglect  his  Metis.  In  December 
he  visited  several  southern  points  as  superintendent 
of  the  district  of  Calgary;  but  a letter  from  Leth- 
bridge on  Christmas  begs  the  bishop  to  release  him 
even  from  this  in  future.  His  request  was  granted. 

His  visit  to  St.  Paul  de  Metis  had  not  been  re- 
assuring. He  finds  he  is  obliged  to  pack  his  her- 
mit’s sack  again  and  set  out  for  the  east  to  find  new 
assistance  for  the  colony.  At  St.  Paul,  where  he  was 
the  guest  of  Archbishop  Ireland  and  of  James  J. 
Hill,  the  latter  slipped  into  the  old  priest’s  hand  on 
leaving  a cheque  for  $5000  to  forward  the  work  for 
his  beloved  Metis.  In  New  York  and  Montreal 
Thomas  Ryan  and  Sir  Thomas  Shaughnessy  added 
still  other  thousands  to  his  Metis  funds,  and  the  old 
man’s  mind  grew  easy  again. 

A trip  to  the  Holy  Land  was  now  being  planned 
for  the  old  missionary  by  Archbishop  Langevin. 
Outwardly  he  witheld  his  consent  to  the  trip.  For  al- 


428 


FATHER  LACOMRE 


1904 


though  his  feet  were  “burning”  for  this  new  and  fas- 
cinating voyage — was  it  altogether  convenable  for 
the  hermit  of  seventy-eight  who  had  so  often  pro- 
claimed his  retirement  to  prepare  for  Eternity? 

Finally  he  consented,  and  set  out  for  Europe  with 
one  eye  fixed  with  desire  on  the  Holy  Land — and 
the  other  turned  with  apologetic  regret  to  the  de- 
serted Hermitage  and  the  blank  pages  of  the  unwrit- 
ten memoirs. 


XVIII 


Accompanied  by  Archbishop  Langevin  and 
Father  Corneiller  of  Ottawa,  Father  Lacombe  sailed 
from  New  York  late  in  April.  His  friends,  hear- 
ing of  his  proposed  tour,  had  subscribed  the  expenses 
of  the  journey — as  he  quite  expected  they  would  when 
he  consented  to  go.  Wild  horses  could  not  draw 
him  from  his  fixed  policy  of  spending  nothing  upon 
himself  that  could  possibly  be  diverted  to  the  western 
missions. 

At  Marseilles  the  Canadians  joined  a pilgrimage 
of  French  Catholics  sailing  for  the  Holy  Land. 
During  a series  of  lectures  given  on  board  the  ship 
Archbishop  Langevin  suggested  to  the  director  that 
his  venerable  companion  be  asked  to  lecture  upon  the 
Indians  and  his  experiences. 

The  evening  of  the  lecture  came,  and  the  audience 
was  astounded  when  “le  vieux  Papa/*  as  they  had 
named  the  old  priest  from  Canada,  took  his  place 
before  them.  Why  was  he  chosen  among  so  many 
brilliant  men  to  deliver  a lecture? 

The  pilgrimage  was  made  up  of  a highly  cultured 
class  of  French  laity  and  clergy,  members  of  the 
old  noblesse  and  some  profound  scholars. 

The  audience’s  speculation  concerning  the  lecturer 
scarcely  outlasted  his  introductory  remarks.  Then 

429 


480 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1904 


he  revealed  himself;  the  crisp  dramatic  sentences,  the 
indescribably  picturesque  and  individual  French  with 
its  infusion  of  English  and  Cree,  the  vivid  eyes  of 
the  old  priest  captured  them.  And  soon  he  was  in 
most  perfect  rapport  with  his  audience.  His  mag- 
netic personality  reached  out  and  drew  them  to 
him  . . . before  long  he  was  playing  on  them  as 

on  a harp. 

They  were  laughing  with  him  at  tales  of  John 
Rowand’s  day;  weeping  with  him  over  the  miseries 
of  the  abandoned  squaw;  thrilling  at  the  battle  of 
Three  Ponds  and  the  tribute  of  Sweet-Grass  to  Pope 
Pius  IX  in  their  winter-camp  on  the  plains. 

Up  to  this  he  had  been  an  obscure  old  missionary: 
now,  again  as  in  Montreal  and  Ottawa  in  the  nineties, 
he  was  a Lion;  and  while  he  had  not  chafed  at  his 
obscurity  he  received  the  new  homage  of  his  com- 
panions with  naive  delight.  Day  by  day  his  warm 
nature  opened  up  in  the  sunshine  of  their  apprecia- 
tion, at  once  finely  sympathetic  and  intellectual;  he 
feasted  them  with  stories  of  the  plains-life;  his  facile 
humour  and  flashes  of  scorn  revealed  the  fire  of  the 
man’s  spirit ; his  sense  of  the  dramatic  attuned  to  their 
own  led  them  from  noisy  Indian-camps  to  the  quiet 
Hermitage  among  the  foothills. 

He  called  himself  the  Old  Chief,  the  old  Indian — 
and  the  French  pilgrims,  alert  even  on  a pilgrimage 
for  the  novel  and  picturesque,  felt  that  they  had 
come  upon  an  edition  de  luxe  of  a frontier  type. 

His  first  lecture  was  such  a success  that  Father 


1904 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


431 


Lacombe  was  urged  to  give  another.  He  chose  his 
own  subject  this  time  and  to  the  consternation  of 
his  Canadian  companions,  he  talked  upon  the  famous 
book  of  Abbe  Loisy,  then  recently  published. 

He  undertook  valiantly  to  demolish  the  arguments 
of  the  book,  and  at  the  same  time  delivered  a rep- 
rimand to  those  of  a younger  generation  on  board 
who  could  find  anything  to  praise  in  it.  . . . In 

a very  few  moments  the  old  missionary  was  flounder- 
ing shoulders-high  in  a stream  of  theological  argu- 
ment for  which  nothing  in  his  active  plains-life  had 
prepared  him. 

He  had  played  many  roles  in  Canada,  but  he  had 
never  been  regarded  by  his  brethren  as  a scholar. 
Yet  here  he  was  in  righteous  indignation  and  pic- 
turesque dialect  matching  himself  against  Loisy  and 
his  subtleties — with  a galaxy  of  French  culture  look- 
ing on ! 

It  was  to  laugh,  as  the  French  phrase  has  it.  But 
his  audience  was  too  keenly  disappointed  at  missing 
his  own  matchless  stories;  in  addition  they  were 
rapidly  becoming  bored  . . . when  Archbishop 

Langevin  hazarded  a suggestion  to  his  old  friend  to 
talk  Indians. 

With  an  almost  impatient  submission  and  an  ex- 
planation that  “the  bishop  did  not  understand  the 
necessity  of  probing  this  matter” — the  old  missionary 
paddled  back  out  of  the  troubled  waters  of  Modern- 
ism into  the  picturesque  streams  of  Indian  life.  But 
his  heart  was  battling  Loisy  and  his  tongue  refused 


432 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1904 


its  office.  . . . The  lecture  shortly  ended  as  a 

failure. 

From  Jerusalem  he  writes  on  May  18th  to  Bishop 
Legal : 

“Jerusalem!  Yes,  Jerusalem — the  Holy  City — where  we 
arrived  last  night.  . . . Is  it  possible  that  I,  a poor  old 

Indian,  am  to-day  in  the  country  where  our  Saviour  died? 
Is  it  possible  that  this  morning  at  three  o’clock  I offered  the 
Holy  Sacrifice  in  the  magnificent  basilica  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  on  the  tomb  of  the  Great  Arisen ! It  is  a favour 
which  was  spontaneously  accorded  to  the  old  chief  of  the 
Northwest.  . . 

His  stay  in  the  Holy  Land  was  one  long  succes- 
sion of  spiritual  delights,  of  which  he  says  he  never 
could  give  adequate  interpretation  in  his  letters  or 
conversation. 

While  in  Jerusalem  his  love  of  novelty  brought  him 
into  an  amusing  and  embarrassing  situation.  One 
day  donning  the  gown  and  head-dress  of  a priest  of 
the  Greek  rite  a rumour  spread  among  the  pilgrims 
that  the  venerable  Father  Lacombe  had  adopted  the 
eastern  rite  in  order  to  devote  himself  to  his  Xtuthe- 
nian  brethren  in  Canada.  The  garments  were 
merely  a gift  to  him  from  the  White  Fathers,  who  had 
persuaded  him  to  try  them  on,  and  enjoying  the 
novelty  of  his  latest  role  he  had  kept  them  on. 

The  old  missionary  only  smiled  mysteriously  when 
confronted  with  the  rumour.  Wearing  his  Greek 
vestments  to  church  that  evening,  however,  he  was 


1904 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


433 


overwhelmed  when  the  director  of  the  pilgrimage 
called  upon  the  congregation  to  pray  for  this  devoted 
old  Canadian  priest  who  “notwithstanding  his  great 
years  had  adopted  the  rite  of  another  branch  of  the 
Church — out  of  love  for  his  Ruthenian  brethren.” 

The  congregation  of  priests  and  laity  prayed  ferv- 
ently : the  Archbishop  and  his  embarrassed  compatriot 
exchanged  glances — teasing,  amusement  and  aston- 
ishment in  the  one,  and  perplexity  and  mortification 
in  the  other.  . . . Promptly  on  the  conclusion 

of  the  service  the  old  plainsman  in  his  Greek  attire 
hurried  off  to  the  hotel,  studiously  avoiding  his  new 
friends  and  their  congratulations  on  his  devotedness. 

The  Greek  vestments  did  not  again  see  the  light  of 
day  on  that  journey. 

On  the  return  trip  to  Rome  the  captain  of  the 
Etoile  gave  a banquet  on  the  anniversary  of  Father 
Lacombe’s  ordination,  and  the  old  missionary  in  an 
amusing  after-dinner  speech  retrieved  the  failure  of 
his  address  on  the  Abbe  Loisy  and  Modernism. 

At  Rome  he  received  a warm  welcome  from  the 
new  Pontiff,  Pius  X.  They  met  first  at  a public 
audience  where  the  Pope  moved  slowly  between  two 
lines  of  pilgrims  speaking  a kindly  word  of  greeting 
to  all.  When  he  came  to  Father  Lacombe  he 
stopped,  at  Archbishop  Langevin’s  instance,  and  the 
old  missionary  was  introduced. 

The  two  men,  humble  and  good  and  great,  looked 
into  each  other’s  eyes  with  mutual  recognition  of  the 
fine  soul  of  the  other.  It  did  not  matter  that  their 


434 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1904 


positions  were  as  wide  apart  as  the  color  of  their  robes 
— the  snow  white  of  the  Pontiff,  and  somewhat  rusty 
black  of  the  Missionary. 

The  heroic  son  of  the  French-Canadian  habitant 
knelt  for  the  blessing  of  the  great  son  of  the  Italian 
peasant,  and  as  he  rose  the  Holy  Father  added  smil- 
ing, “Well  done — well  done!  Ad  Multos  annos!” 

On  June  27th,  the  Canadians  left  for  London  by 
way  of  Vienna,  where  the  Emperor  again  received 
Father  Lacombe.  His  Majesty  was  on  the  point 
of  departure  from  Vienna,  and  the  audience  had  to 
be  very  brief.  When  admitted  the  Archbishop  spent 
some  minutes  in  an  exchange  of  courtesies,  affably 
paying  his  respects  to  Austria’s  overlord,  Father 
Lacombe  meanwhile  chafing  impatiently  at  the 
loss  of  precious  moments  and  the  dimming  chances 
of  a petition  carefully  framed  for  the  Emperor’s 
ears. 

He  suddenly  interrupted,  with  an  impatient  gesture 
toward  his  Archbishop : 

“But  the  time  is  short;  and — M’sieu  VEmpereur — 
what  we  want  is  some  money  for  those  Ruthenian 
missions  we  have  in  our  country!” 

The  Emperor  turned  smiling  to  the  old  “saint 
audace”  assuring  him  of  a gift;  and  as  this  was  for- 
warded to  him  next  day,  Father  Lacombe  could 
never  be  brought  to  see  or  regret  his  breach  of 
etiquette. 

On  the  railway  journey  in  Germany,  some  hours 
out  of  Frankfort,  Father  Lacombe  had  the  mis- 


1905 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


435 


fortune  to  lose  the  cross  that  for  fifty-five  years  he 
had  worn  on  his  person  as  a member  of  the  Oblate 
Order.  At  Liege  in  Belgium  he  attended  the  Gen- 
eral Chapter  of  his  Order,  and  shortly  afterward 
sailed  for  home. 

By  November  he  was  again  in  his  Hermitage. 
But  he  was  summoned  from  it  on  the  15th  of  Janu- 
ary, 1905,  by  a disaster  so  sudden  and  cruel  that  it 
required  all  the  hope  and  strength  and  faith  of  his 
old  heart  to  rally  under  it. 

The  big  convent  industrial  school  at  the  Metis 
colony,  built  by  the  alms  of  his  friends  and  shelter- 
ing one  hundred  and  twenty  children,  was  burned 
to  the  ground  the  night  before.  Practically  nothing 
was  saved  from  the  flames.  One  poor  child  was 
burned  and  the  sisters,  who  had  repeatedly  risked 
their  own  lives  in  bringing  the  children  out  of  the 
convent,  had  several  narrow  escapes. 

Hurrying  north  he  writes  to  Bishop  Legal  who 
was  then  in  Montreal: 

“I  am  en  route  to  Edmonton  to  meet  Father  Therien. 
God’s  will  be  done,  we  say — but  what  are  we  going  to  do? 
The  children  will  have  to  be  dispersed — and  the  Sisters,  where 
are  they?  My  God,  how  sad  it  is!  Again  what  are  we 
going  to  do?  The  only  resources  I have — $1,500 — are  al- 
ready lent  for  five  years  to  these  poor  Sisters  of  Pincher 
Creek,  or  rather  to  their  community.  ...  I am  nearly 
sure  that  you  will  want  to  send  me  to  Ottawa.  But  I am  not 
going  there.  If  Father  * (whose  feet  burn),  and  Fa- 
ther   wish  to  go,  it  is  their  affair.  . . 


436 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1905 


He  immediately  wrote  an  impassioned  appeal  for 
help  in  the  form  of  an  open  letter  and  published  it 
in  La  Patrie  of  Montreal,  which  was  owned  by  his 
friend,  the  Hon.  Mr.  Tarte. 

From  somewhere  he  secured  $100  which  he  for- 
warded to  Father  Therien,  the  Superintendent  of  the 
colony,  to  help  him  start  a house  for  the  Sisters.  He 
feels  unable  to  make  a fresh  campaign  in  the  East 
for  funds:  he  is  worsted — there  is  no  light  ahead. 
He  writes  to  the  bishop : 

“My  Lord,  I will  not  again  take  up  my  beggar’s  staff. 
That  is  finished.  If  money  does  not  come  otherwise,  our 
work  must  fail.” 

And  he  adds  a postscript : 

“What  will  the  Government  do?  Will  they  withdraw  from 
their  contract  with  our  corporation?  At  least  I hope  they 
will  leave  to  the  half-breeds  already  established  the  right  of 
occupying  their  land  and  homesteads.” 

If  it  be  true  that  one  trouble  mitigates  another  by 
a process  of  counter-irritation,  then  Father  La- 
combe  was  fortunate  on  going  to  Ottawa  in  1905,  to 
find  new  cause  for  worry.  The  Autonomy  Bill, 
providing  for  the  creation  of  the  new  provinces  of 
Alberta  and  Saskatchewan,  was  then  being  discussed 
in  the  Commons,  and  the  clauses  relative  to  school 
matters  had  started  an  embittered  discussion  within 
and  outside  the  House.  In  their  Bill  the  Govern- 
ment had  yielded  a tardy  justice  to  the  demands  of 


1906 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


437 


the  Western  Catholics  and  their  brethren  in  the  East, 
making  provision  for  a system  of  Separate  Schools 
in  the  new  provinces. 

Sir  Wilfred  Laurier,  who  had  brought  the  Liberal 
party  into  power  in  1896  by  promises  held  out  to  the 
Catholic  school  party  felt  that  this  was  an  acceptable 
occasion  to  redeem  his  pledges  to  some  extent,  and 
in  the  war  that  waged  then  about  the  frail,  handsome 
figure  of  the  first  Canadian  of  his  day  he  showed  to 
greater  advantage  than  ever  before. 

Toward  the  end  of  March  Father  Lacombe  re- 
turned to  his  Hermitage:  then  he  passed  the  sum- 
mer in  parochial  work  at  Pincher  and  Medicine 
Hat,  for  the  mission-field  was  widening  and  was  al- 
ready beyond  the  number  and  force  of  the  younger 
missionaries. 

His  work  brought  him  again  in  contact  with  the 
half-breeds  who  lived  around  the  towns  so  that  in 
October  when  he  made  his  way  back  to  his  Hermitage 
from  the  Hat  and  received  disappointing  news  from 
his  colony  it  is  not  surprising  he  should  write  this 
heartbroken  letter  to  the  one  friend  who  with  him- 
self believed  in  the  work  for  the  Metis : 

“Nobody  to-day  can  understand  my  trouble,  my  grief,  my 
disappointment — I have  only  God  for  witness  of  my  devoted 
desire  to  save  this  population.  I will  go  down  into  the  grave 
with  this  sorrow  in  my  heart  repeating  ‘ Bonmn  est  quia  hu- 
miliasti  me.9  My  poor  Metis ! I see  them  to-day  in  the 
prisons,  demoralized,  about  the  cities  begging  for  the  leavings 
of  the  whites  to  nourish  them  and  clothe  their  nakedness. 


438 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1907 


And  what  is  most  sad  is  that,  humiliated  and  debased  by  the 
whites,  some  do  not  venture  to  come  to  the  divine  services  but 
remain  drinking  in  their  tents. 

“I  can  only  weep  in  secret  over  this  deplorable  state — not 
even  before  my  brethren,  who  have  no  longer  any  sympathy 
for  these  disheartened  Christians.  At  least  you,  the  first  pas- 
tor, aid  me  to  save  these  unfortunates.” 

The  handwriting  in  his  letters  now  noticeably  in- 
creases in  size  and  unevenness,  even  as  the  letters  grow 
shorter.  All  this  betrays  the  fatigue  of  age.  His 
years  are  printing  themselves  still  more  plainly  on 
his  weakening  form,  but  with  his  habit  of  eating  little 
— scarcely  more  than  one  meal  a day — he  contrives 
to  be  always  in  fair  health. 

In  January  1907,  he  made  a brief  visit  to  Edmon- 
ton and  St.  Albert  district.  At  Beaumont,  a small 
French-Canadian  settlement  in  which  he  had  estab- 
lished the  mission  twelve  years  earlier  he  officiated 
one  Sunday  of  his  visit.  People  flocked  from  all 
over  the  countryside  to  hear  the  “fameucc  Pere 
Lacombe ” who  said  to  them  during  his  address: 

“We  are  told  that  in  the  earliest  days  of  the  Church 
an  old  white-haired  man,  bent  with  age  and  partic- 
ularly tried  by  the  labors  of  a long  and  painful 
apostolate,  being  no  longer  able  to  walk  by  himself 
had  himself  carried  by  his  disciples  into  the  midst 
of  an  assemblage  of  the  faithful  and  there  he  did  not 
cease  to  repeat: 

“ 'My  little  children,  love  one  another.’ 

“This  old  man  was  the  apostle  St.  John.  Eh , bien. 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


439 


to-day  you  have  before  you  another  old  man.  Hav- 
ing had  the  happiness  of  founding  this  good  parish, 
he  has  wished  to  visit  once  more  a place  filled  with 
memories  for  him,  and  to  come  to  give  you  some  ad- 
vice which  I am  sure  his  white  hairs  will  make  you 
hear  with  respect : I will  say  to  you  nothing  else  than 
that  which  St.  John  said;  like  him  I shall  repeat  to 
you, — ‘Love  one  another.’  ” 

Even  yet  the  old  missionary  could  thrill  his  au- 
diences when  he  chose;  and  he  did  so  that  night  as 
he  closed  a lengthy  address  on  the  West  with  this 
clarion  call — 

“Advance  the  work  of  colonization!  Do  not  rest 
idle  in  the  shade.  Do  not  go  elsewhere  to  seek  the 
benefits  you  have  here  and  can  enjoy  with  more  ad- 
vantages.  The  future  is  yours,  if  you  will  seize  the 
present.  Courage  and  tenacity — these  form  the  se- 
cret of  success!” 

It  was  while  he  made  this  sojourn  in  the  north 
that,  meeting  me,  he  renewed  a request  first  made  in 
1904:  would  I not  relieve  him  of  the  work  upon  his 
Memoirs?  This  time  I agreed,  arranging  to  spend 
some  months  near  the  Hermitage  to  secure  his 
reminiscences. 

Ey  February  28th,  which  was  his  eightieth  birth- 
day the  old  Chief — as  he  was  wont  to  call  himself 
now — was  in  Montreal.  Archbishop  Bruchesi,  plac- 
ing the  Palace  at  his  disposal,  suggested  that  he  give 
a birthday  banquet  to  his  friends.  Father  Lacombe 
was  charmed  with  the  novel  idea,  deeply  touched  too 


MO 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1907 


at  the  “delicacy  of  thought  and  the  courtesy  of  this 
dear  Archbishop,”  and  straightway  issued  numerous 
invitations. 

In  April  he  wrote  his  bishop  with  some  malice 
prepense  in  the  idea  of  turning  the  tables  upon  his 
teasing  brethren: 

“Done,  soon  we  shall  commence  the  fameiuc  Memoirs,  but 
I have  a new  plan  concerning  them!  It  is  very  interesting 
for  you  and  others  of  my  friends  to  push  me  unceasingly  to 
undertake  this  work  which  is  far  from  making  me  smile. 

“But  will  it  not  be  permitted  me  for  my  part  to  ask  all  our 
Ancients  to  write  their  Memoirs  also,  uniting  them  with  mine 
to  make  one  entire  book  out  of  them?  I propose  this  and 
ask  you  to  have  the  following  missionaries  write  their  Mem- 
oirs : 

“1st.  Bishop  Legal,  who  apart  from  his  title  and  position 
has  had  a long  experience  among  the  Indians  in  the  founda- 
tion of  this  diocese.  This  would  make  a fine  complement  to 
the  Life  of  Bishop  Grandin. 

“2nd.  The  venerable  Father  Lestanc.  How  many  things 
would  this  venerable  missionary  have  to  tell  of  his  remem- 
brances of  whites  and  Indians,  and  his  voyages  with  the  half- 
breeds  into  the  prairies ! 

“3rd.  Dear  Father  Tissier — who  could  relate  his  sojourn 
at  the  Peace  River  and  his  work  among  us. 

“4th.  Dear  Father  Leduc — who  has  also  reminiscences  en 
masse . With  his  good  memory,  what  interesting  things 
would  he  not  recall!  It  seems  to  me  that  he  is  one  of  Ours 
who  has  achievements  and  deeds  to  record. 

“5th.  The  Rev.  Father  Grandin  with  his  position  of  Vicar, 
would  he  not  be  counted  among  the  Ancients?  He  had  his 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


441 


experiences  also  among  the  savages,  half-breeds  and  whites. 
Being  the  nephew  of  our  first  Bishop  and  a capable  mis- 
sionary, we  should  invite  him  to  write  his  Memoirs. 

“6th.  The  benign  Pere  Doucet — is  he  not  one  of  the  most 
ancient?  Notwithstanding  his  humility  and  his  reluctance  to 
talk,  he  should  be  compelled  to  write  his  Memoirs.  How 
many  things  could  he  not  tell  us  about  the  Indians,  Metis  and 
the  rest?  . . . 

“Done,  My  Lord,  such  is  my  new  plan ! It  is  very  fine 
for  you  to  start  me  upon  this  job,  but  let  each  one  take  a 
part  in  the  work,  which  should  be  of  especial  interest  to  all 
these  Ancients.” 

Spending  the  most  of  the  remainder  of  1907  at 
the  Hermitage  he  writes  solemnly  on  New  Year’s 
eve  to  his  bishop.  The  letter  is  that  of  an  old  man, 
full  of  years  and  wisdom.  He  assumes  again  the 
role  of  first  Counsellor  as  in  the  days  of  Bishop  Tache, 
concluding  the  letter  with  a word  of  advice  to  the 
bishop  to  give  latitude  to  young  priests,  especially 
when  they  possess  a certain  aptitude  and  capacity  for 
their  duties. 

“With  politeness  and  charity,”  he  says,  “put  the 
old  aside,  for  they  will  have  enough  good  sense  to 
understand  their  position.” 


XIX 


The  year  1908,  which  was  mainly  spent  in  his 
Hermitage,  brought  the  old  “Chief  of  the  Foothills” 
to  the  parting  of  the  Ways. 

He  was  eighty-one.  He  had  lived  to  see  the  last 
traces  of  the  frontier  regime  lost  in  the  progress  of 
modern  cities — to  see  old  trails  trod  by  himself  and 
his  “fameuoc  Alexis ” buried  beneath  asphalt.  But 
up  to  this,  in  his  colony  of  St.  Paul,  he  had  held  him- 
self staunchly  identified  with  his  now-humble  friends 
— the  Metis — in  contradistinction  to  the  “proud  pale- 
faces who  overrun  our  lands.” 

He  was  now  to  witness  the  breaking  of  this  last 
tie. 

The  superintendent  of  the  colony  had  realized  for 
some  time  that  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  continue 
that  settlement  on  the  basis  planned  by  Father  La- 
combe.  Of  those  who  had  been  brought  there  and 
surrounded  with  every  advantage  many  had  willed 
to  turn  their  backs  on  the  quiet  country  life,  to  drift 
again  to  the  lights,  the  cheap  pleasures  and  vice  of 
the  city  purlieus  they  had  known. 

Several  others  had  moved  out  of  the  colony  to 
ordinary  homesteads.  Those  who  remained — about 
eighty  families  in  all — were  well-established  on 
farms  and  on  the  way  of  making  an  independent  live- 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


443 


lihood.  Father  Therien  urged  that  the  plan  of  com- 
munity life  should  be  broken,  and  the  Metis  put  on 
the  status  of  any  other  homesteader  in  the  W est. 

In  consideration  of  the  money  expended  in  that 
region  by  the  Oblate  order  and  their  friends  he  sug- 
gested that  a certain  portion  of  land  be  deeded  to  the 
controlling  syndicate,  while  the  remainder  should  be 
thrown  open  to  homesteaders  in  the  usual  way. 

The  plan  immediately  recommended  itself  to 
Bishop  Legal  and  Archbishop  Langevin,  two  mem- 
bers of  the  syndicate  who  had  begun  to  consider 
this  expensive  philanthropic  work  something  of  a 
white  elephant.  Father  Lacombe  was  the  last  to  be 
won  to  it,  but  he  was  confronted  by  the  continually 
failing  finances  and  his  own  enfeebled  forces. 

As  cogent  as  either  of  these  reasons  was  the  indis- 
putable fact  that  many  of  the  Metis  he  had  hoped  to 
“redeem”  would  not  submit  to  the  redemption,  when 
they  found  themselves  confronted  with  the  routine 
of  farmwork. 

On  March  28th  Father  Lacombe  wrote  to  Bishop 
Legal  that  if  all  the  members  of  the  syndicate 
favoured  the  plan  and  the  Government  consisted  to 
it — “then  I submit  to  it.”  This  was  his  renunciation 
of  the  one  big  undertaking  of  his  life  in  which  he 
felt  he  had  not  succeeded. 

In  the  spring  of  1909  the  alteration  of  the  Colony 
was  effected  by  the  Government,  and  St.  Paul  de 
Metis  as  a protected  colony  ceased  to  exist. 

Father  Lacombe,  deprived  of  one  scheme  of  be- 


4 44 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1907 


nevolence,  immediately  sought  another.  He  was 
now  inspired  to  throw  all  his  energies  into  a Plan, 
which  had  been  in  his  mind  in  a vague  way  for 
years.  . . . Very  occasionally  he  had  spoken  of 

it,  wistfully  and  timidly  almost,  as  “my  dream  of 
an  old  missionary.”  He  resolved  to  realize  this  now 
— and  so  provide  a refuge  for  the  orphans  and  home- 
less aged  of  Alberta. 

Progress  had  made  its  own  of  the  old  hunting- 
ground  of  his  Indians,  and  in  its  spectacular  march 
the  weak — as  elsewhere — were  thrust  to  the  wall. 
Father  Lacombe’s  heart  called  out  to  him  to  help 
these. 

Everyone  else  in  the  West  was  intent  upon  the 
opportunities  and  necessities  of  development.  Gov- 
ernments were  absorbed  in  constructive  legislation 
and  public  works.  Young  missionaries  expended 
their  energies  in  forming  new  missions  for  the  in- 
pouring immigrants.  Individuals  were  busy  making 
fortunes  or  places  for  themselves. 

They  had  no  time  to  seek  those  in  danger  of  fall- 
ing by  the  way:  this  mission  remained  for  the  Man- 
of-the-Good-Heart. 

As  soon  as  Father  Lacombe  realized  that  this  was 
to  be  his  next  undertaking  his  mind  became  a glow- 
ing smelting-pot  of  plans  about  the  Home.  There 
must  be  found  money  to  build  and  maintain  the  in- 
stitution, a competent  staff  to  conduct  the  Home,  a 
suitable  site  in  some  pretty  country  place,  where  the 
children  could  learn  to  work  the  land — and  a stream 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


445 


by  which  the  old  people  would  have  a pleasant  seat 
under  the  trees  to  dream  or  pray  their  last  days  away. 

Strangely  enough,  in  view  of  his  own  busy  old 
age  and  inability  to  be  tranquil — Father  Lacombe 
never  lost  his  belief  in  the  tranquil  old  age  as  the 
Ideal. 

He  now  approached  Mr.  Burns  of  Calgary,  and 
after  a couple  of  interviews  the  delicious  old  diplomat 
came  away  the  possessor  of  200  acres  of  good  farm- 
land with  the  stream  and  trees  and  in  the  exact  lo- 
cality he  desired.  Then  he  mapped  out  a progress 
through  the  province  to  beg  again — more  audacious, 
more  imperious  and  more  wheedling  than  ever,  be- 
cause he  felt  so  little  time  remained  to  him. 

Upon  the  initiation  of  His  Excellency  Lord  Grey 
a celebration  of  Quebec’s  tercentenary  had  been  ar- 
ranged to  take  place  during  the  following  summer. 
Elaborate  preparations  were  being  carried  out  for  a 
pageant  of  the  Old  Regime,  and  Father  Lacombe 
as  an  historic  figure,  known  from  end  to  end  of  Que- 
bec, was  invited  to  take  some  part  in  the  festivities. 

He  writes  the  bishop  on  June  15th: 

“Done,  I am  not  going  to  Quebec.  There  are  many  other 
things  more  important  for  the  old  Chief  of  the  Mountains 
than  to  go  and  bow  myself  before  the  crosses  and  mitres  of 
the  centenarians.  Excuse  me,  I forget  myself — bless  me!” 

The  more  important  matters  which  occupy  him  are 
the  plans  for  his  Home — “cette  oeuvre  ineffable "■ — 
and  the  giving  out  of  reminiscences  for  his  memoirs. 


446 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1901 


His  plan  of  campaign  for  the  Home  is  not  yet  com- 
plete— but  when  it  is,  he  dictates  serenely  to  his  ec- 
clesiastical superior, 

“You  will  publish  a pastoral  letter  to  announce 
our  work.” 

It  will  be  recalled  that  Father  Lacombe  was  one 
of  the  founders  of  the  Indian  school  system  in 
Canada.  A voluminous  correspondence  with  the  In- 
dian Department,  which  remains  in  his  possession, 
indicates  to  what  a large  extent  the  department  was 
guided  by  him  in  its  earliest  administration  of  the 
schools. 

He  was  naturally  interested  this  year  when  a ques- 
tion arose  concerning  the  need  of  improving  the  sys- 
tem. He  was  frank  in  his  expression  of  opinion: 

“With  my  experience  of  those  schools  on  which  so 
much  thought  and  money  has  been  expended  I can 
only  say  that  they  have  not  been  the  success  we  hoped 
for.  We  taught  some  boys  and  girls  who  were 
bright  as  white  children.  . . . But  that  was  only 

the  beginning — the  real  problem  came  when  they 
left  school. 

“To  go  back  to  their  homes — not  white,  and  not 
Indians  any  longer!  Many  were  failures.  . . . 

Oh,  it  is  very  sad  to  think  about  all  that — when  you 
remember  all  the  love  and  work  and  sacrifice  we  put 
into  these  schools.  . . . 

“I  am  too  old  now.  I am  useless  for  that,”  the 
octogenarian  continued  with  painful  emphasis  of  his 
own  failing  powers.  “But  if  I were  a young  man 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


447 


again”  and  his  voice  rose  to  fresh  strength  as  his  in- 
domitable spirit  fired  him — “that  would  be  my  mission 
— just  to  make  a success  of  our  Indian  schools.” 

In  November  he  accompanied  Bishop  Legal  to 
Chicago,  where  thousands  of  laymen  and  ecclesiastical 
dignitaries  attended  the  first  Catholic  missionary 
congress  of  the  New  World.  Here  he  went  his  way 
content  in  an  obscurity  overcast  by  the  forms  of  thou- 
sands of  young,  eager  men  marshalling  their  forces 
of  organization. 

Apart  from  the  large  issues  discussed  there  were 
numerous  side-lights  which  caught  the  still-harvest- 
ing eyes  of  the  veteran  and  revealed  him  no  non- 
progressive. When  the  newer  missionaries  described 
to  him  a chapel-car  which  was  kept  moving  along 
western  railroads  among  settlers  living  in  isolated 
groups  without  churches — he  told  them  of  the  chapel- 
tent  built  by  himself  forty  years  before. 

His  host,  a Chicago  millionaire,  took  the  veteran 
for  many  rides  in  his  motor  car — once  gliding  along 
miles  of  smooth  boulevards  at  the  rate  of  twenty-five 
miles  an  hour.  At  the  end  the  party  found  Father 
Lacombe  serenely  exultant,  his  eyes  afire  with  pleas- 
ure, his  sturdy  old-timer’s  spirit  unquenched  by  the 
lightnings  of  the  New  Age.  They  awaited  surprised 
comment  from  him;  instead  he  remarked  to  his  host 
with  a twinkling  eye — 

“Why  don’t  you  go  more  fast?  This  is  not  fast 
enough  for  me!”  . . . 

Had  not  his  dogs — shaggy  Pappilon  and  his  mates 


448 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1907 


— skimmed  over  the  hard  snow  at  a rate  that  took 
one’s  breath  away?  And  would  Papillon’s  master 
confess  to  surprise  at  the  speed  of  a Chicago  automo- 
bile?— Not  so  long  as  the  heart  of  an  old-timer  burned 
in  him. 

F ather  Lacombe  in  the  retirement  of  his  Hermitage 
had  now  no  part  or  interest  in  the  political  world, 
into  which  he  had  once  been  thrust  so  prominently. 
But  his  former  intercourse  had  given  him  decided 
convictions,  as  indicated  in  a conversation  this  autumn : 

“I  have  never  belonged  to  any  party.  As  a citi- 
zen and  patriot  I would  always  support  the  party 
which  rules  the  country  for  the  time.  It  is  stupid 
to  do  otherwise. 

“The  people  have  voted:  the  majority  has  said — 
‘This  party  shall  govern  the  country.’  Then  it  is 
my  duty  to  help  that  party  govern  in  the  wisest  way. 
The  work  of  opposition  is  for  the  opposing  party 
in  the  House.  But  even  they  should  not  stir  up  the 
people  wrongfully. 

“I  consider  it  criminal  for  a member  of  the  op- 
position who,  when  he  believes  a certain  measure  good 
for  the  country,  votes  against  it  because  it  was  in- 
troduced by  the  Government  and  its  passage  may 
strengthen  the  governing  party  with  the  people. 
. . . Criminal!  Stupid! 

“Such  men,  politicians — to  whatever  party  they 
belong — I would  see  them  thrown  down  like  that!” 
he  said,  with  a vigorous  gesture  of  his  closed  fist  to- 
ward the  floor. 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


449 


‘They  have  no  conscience — no  patriotism.  I 
would  excuse  such  conduct  only  in  the  unformed 
school-boy,  who  believes  he  must  follow  his  ‘gang’  in 
everything  they  do. 

“Why  should  I oppose  the  party  that  governs,  as 
long  as  it  is  doing  right  ? Stupid ! That  is  a strange 
way  to  be  a patriot.  . . . But  when  they  do 

wrong — then  let  everyone  unite  and  turn  them  out! 

“When  Sir  John  was  governing  the  countiy  I did 
all  I could  to  help  him.  When  Laurier  came  I did 
what  I could  to  help  him.  But  one  day  I said  to 
Laurier:  Tf  you  went  out  of  power  to-morrow,  I 

would  support  the  next  Government/  He  only 
laughed  and  said : ‘I  believe  you  would/  ” 

The  time  was  now  ripe  for  his  new  campaign,  and 
he  blithely  opened  the  New  Year — 1909 — with  a 
series  of  collections  for  the  building-fund  of  the 
Home.  Throughout  Alberta  he  passed,  until  he  had 
exhausted  the  generosity  of  his  friends  there — when 
he  journeyed  on  to  Eastern  Canada  and  renewed  his 
efforts. 

At  Quebec  in  August  he  attended  with  hundreds 
of  other  ecclesiastics  the  first  Plenary  Council  of  the 
Church  held  in  Canada.  Here  as  at  Chicago  it  was 
the  old  missionary’s  part  to  look  on  at  the  energy 
and  scholarly  ability  of  younger  brethren. 

On  his  return  west  he  accompanied  the  bishop  to 
St.  Albert,  and  was  there  the  centre  of  a festival  in 
celebration  of  the  sixtieth  anniversary  of  his  ordina- 
tion. Linked  with  this  was  the  celebration  of  the 


450 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1907 


fiftieth  anniversary  of  the  Grey  Nuns’  arrival  in  the 
diocese.  For  two  days  the  little  Cathedral  town  was 
en  fete . 

Under  the  trees  in  the  gardens  of  the  Indian 
School  sweet-faced  nuns  of  many  Orders  and  in 
varied  garb  moved  gently,  the  guests  of  their  pioneer 
sisters — the  Grey  Nuns. 

But  over  the  hill  on  the  grounds  of  the  rambling 
old  wooden  Palace,  the  scene  was  more  vividly  in- 
teresting, if  less  picturesque.  For  the  Old  Guard 
of  the  Indian  missions  were  there  in  force  mingling 
with  scores  of  younger  Oblates. 

They  were  of  the  men  who  had  touched  upon  the 
first  score  of  years  Father  Fa  combe  spent  in  the  West. 
Some  had  held  their  splendid  physique  almost  unim- 
paired. Others  were  shrunken  and  stooped  and 
transparently  frail:  one  and  all  were  modest,  unas- 
sertive and  light-hearted  as  school-boys. 

There  was  Father  Tissier,  gentle  and  shrewd,  who 
still  dated  the  past  from  the  year  Father  Lacombe 
blessed  his  isolation  on  the  Peace  by  a fraternal  visit: 
Father  Leduc,  capable,  great-hearted  and  drolly  hu- 
morous, bearing  still  with  him  the  marks  of  the 
plague  of  1870,  and  Father  Blanchet  who  had  shared 
the  dangers  of  that  period  with  him. 

Father  Grandin  was  there,  with  leonine  head  and 
masses  of  silver  hair — now  the  Provincial  head  of 
his  Order  in  Alberta:  Father  Doucet,  the  gentle  and 
meek — “God’s  lamb”  and  the  beloved  of  his  sturdier 
brother,  Father  Lacombe. 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


451 


Father  Lestanc  tvas  there  too — stooped  and  deaf, 
but  alert  and  genial  still,  his  tongue  sharp  as  of  old 
to  turn  wit  or  satire,  and  his  spirit  as  ready  as  on 
the  night  he  opposed  Donald  Smith  in  old  Fort 
Garry;  Father  Legoff,  linguist  and  author,  and  in 
1885  a prisoner  of  Big  Bear.  Finally  there  was  the 
bishop  himself,  who  had  elected  as  an  Oblate  to  know 
exile  from  Old  France  and  had  shared  the  mud- 
chinked  hut  on  the  Blood  reserve  with  Father  La- 
combe. 

A banquet  was  given  at  which  the  governor  of 
the  province,  members  of  the  Government,  prominent 
men  of  the  district  and  old-timers  were  guests. 

Father  Lacombe  made  an  after-dinner  speech 
there,  revealing  such  exquisite  humour  and  depths  of 
diplomacy  with  bursts  of  naivete  that  his  audience 
for  more  than  half  an  hour  hung  on  his  words  and 
punctuated  his  phrases  Avith  delighted  laughter.  It 
was  a notable  speech  for  a man  of  eighty-two. 

Here  and  there  in  the  crowds  on  the  sunny  lawns 
those  days  moved  quietly  a slim,  erect  young-old  man 
who  bore  a striking  resemblance  to  Father  Lacombe. 
It  was  Gaspard  Lacombe,  the  foot-loose  wanderer, 
anchored  at  last.  But  while  the  priest  of  eighty-two 
was  still  an  eager,  high-spirited  boy  in  heart  the  lay- 
man of  three-score  was  tired  and  more  than  a little 
wistful. 

At  a soiree  in  the  Hall  dusky  small  boys  clad 
as  Indians  enacted  in  fascinating  pantomime  set  to 
music  the  battle  of  1865,  when  Father  Lacombe  had 


452 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1907 


interposed  between  the  Blackfeet  and  Crees.  In  an- 
other scene  girls  symbolically  represented  the  twelve 
foundations  laid  by  the  old  man  who  looked  on  with 
childlike  delight  at  their  skilful  representation. 

Finally  there  drifted  out  from  the  wings  a fairy- 
like troop  of  children  who  crowned  the  veteran  with 
flowers.  Then  discrowning  himself  the  old  priest 
made  his  way  slowly,  heavily  through  the  strewn 
flowers  to  the  stage.  There  he  delicately  turned  the 
tide  of  feeling  from  himself  to  the  three  nuns  who 
had  so  bravely  ventured  in  to  Ste.  Anne’s  forest- 
mission  fifty  years  before:  devoted  women  who  had 
passed  to  their  reward  while  he  still  lingered  as  a 
link  with  the  Past.  . . . 

After  the  soiree  the  darkness  of  the  night  on  the  hill 
was  radiantly  troubled  with  showers  and  swords 
and  balls  of  pyrotechnic  fire:  and  here  the  festival 
ended. 

A few  days  later  Father  Lacombe  went  to  Ed- 
monton to  greet  Lord  Strathcona  who  was  then  on 
a tour  of  the  West. 

The  two  old  friends  met  on  the  lawn  at  Govern- 
ment House,  where  smartly-f rocked  westerners  were 
assembling  for  the  reception  to  the  High  Commis- 
sioner. 

The  great  empire-builder  went  forward  to  meet 
the  little  man  in  the  black  cassock — also  an  empire- 
builder  in  his  way. 

“Ha,  my  old  friend!”  said  Father  Lacombe  with 
caressing  notes,  “I  am  glad — glad  to  see  you.” 


Lord  Strathcona  and  Father  Lacombe  Meeting  on  the  Lawn  of  Government  House, 

Edmonton,  September,  1909 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


453 


Deep  pleasure  lit  up  the  face  of  each,  as  though 
consciousness  of  a kinship — in  which  none  of  the  new- 
comers shared — had  suddenly  transmuted  their 
mutual  esteem  and  liking  into  a glowing  affection. 

Strathcona  had  been  thrown  from  his  carriage  a 
few  days  before  in  British  Columbia  and  had  his 
right  arm  in  a sling.  The  injured  member  now 
caught  the  attention  of  the  Man-of-the-Good-Heart 
and  he  put  out  a quick  hand  of  sympathy,  suddenly 
mindful  of  the  other’s  age  and  the  fatigues  of  his 
journey. 

He  spoke  his  fears:  but  Strathcona  brushed  them 
aside  as  laughingly  as  he  would  have  done  on  their 
trip  to  St.  Paul  forty  years  earlier:  and  the  old  priest 
murmured  his  admiration: 

“Ha,  that  is  like  you,  always — you  never  would 
complain !” 

The  two  pioneers  now  withdrew  to  a bench  beneath 
the  trees,  oblivious  of  the  assembling  guests.  As 
they  sat  together,  Strathcona’s  hand  in  the  warm 
clasp  of  Pere  Lacombe,  the  two  old  men  studied  one 
another  covertly  for  the  marks  of  the  years. 

They  rallied  each  other  on  their  youthfulness,  these 
two  white-haired  veterans  who  would  not  grow  older: 
and  they  laughed  at  Strathcona’s  assurance  that  they 
were  still  boys. 

Then  as  memories  rose  like  exhalations  from  the 
Past  shutting  off  themselves  and  the  years  they  had 
known  from  the  gathering  ranks  in  gala  attire,  they 
dropped  into  tender  reminiscence  of  the  old-times 


454 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1907 


• — le  bon  vieux  temps — for  which  they  stood  alone 
that  day. 

Presently  the  conversation  was  lifted  from  the 
Past — the  live  Present  had  pressing  claims  upon  these 
boys  of  more  than  four-score;  and  when  the  gentle 
transition  was  complete  it  was  the  new  Home — that 
dream  of  an  old  man — of  which  they  talked. 

Father  Lacombe  was  making  a plea  for  a “little 
souvenir”  for  the  Home  and  the  poor  it  would  shelter ; 
but  it  is  doubtful  if  the  other  heeded  his  words  greatly. 
This  man  of  many  dreams  and  vast  possessions  felt 
the  greater  urgency  of  an  appeal  that  was  wordless 
— the  well-spent  years,  the  radiant  humanity  of  the 
man  in  the  cassock. 

They  had  each  gone  into  the  wilderness  striplings 
with  staff  and  scrip  and  the  mind  to  do  great  things. 
The  one  man  was  now  a peer  of  the  realm  and  a 
man  of  immense  wealth;  the  other  had  little  more 
than  his  staff  and  scrip,  but  with  them  he  was  a prince 
of  hearts  and  good  works. 

His  lightly  worded  plea  for  aid  was  scarcely  ut- 
tered before  the  assurance  came — and  with  this  little 
matter  past  the  two  picked  up  the  threads  of  old 
memories  until  the  hour  for  the  reception. 

They  took  leave  of  each  other  now.  A long  warm 
handclasp — a long  steady  look  of  farewell:  “Good- 

bye; God  bless  you!”  from  Father  Lacombe,  and  a 
wistful  question  unspoken  between  the  two!  Then 
the  old  priest  swiftly  lifted  his  friend’s  hand  to  his 
lips;  and  was  gone. 


190*7 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


455 


The  4 little  souvenir”  came  shortly  after  from 
Strathcona.  It  was  a cheque  for  $10,000. 

In  1910,  having  collected  $30,000  for  his  Home 
Father  Lacombe  ordered  its  construction  at  a cost  of 
about  twice  that  sum.  He  then  spent  the  summer  at 
Midnapore  pottering  delightedly  about  the  building, 
watching  it  grow  brick  by  brick;  while  the  workmen 
grew  pleasantly  familiar  with  the  inquisitive  paternal 
old  form  stooping  over  his  stick. 

He  lived  nearby  in  a small  frame-building  as  bare 
as  the  shack  at  Macleod  in  the  eighties.  Nothing  of 
all  the  funds  he  had  begged  remained  to  him — noth- 
ing of  all  the  gifts  that  had  been  showered  upon  him: 
for  giving  has  been  his  especial  weakness. 

But  the  old  man  needed  none  of  these.  He  was 
still  rich  in  his  own  personality.  The  primal  ele- 
ments of  joyousness,  fearlessness  and  grit  that  sus- 
tained him  in  his  prime  were  still  with  him:  though 
frequently  obscured  with  the  small  vanities  and  curi- 
osities of  a child,  or  fitful  bursts  of  annoyance. 

These  last  only  waited  upon  a comprehending 
gleam  in  another’s  eyes  to  be  dissolved  into  smiles — 
deliciously-knowing,  self -accusing  smiles  that  flut- 
tered roguishly  across  the  fine  old  face.  No  estimate 
of  Father  Lacombe  is  adequate  that  does  not  empha- 
size the  charm  of  this  delightful  responsiveness  and 
accompanying  humour.  Even  at  eighty-four  no  tran- 
sition of  another’s  thought  was  too  quick  or  subtle  for 
his  Gallic  intuition — unless  he  chose  for  diplomatic 
reasons  most  blandly  to  ignore  it„ 


456 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


1907 


In  October  of  1910  Father  Laeombe  went  to  Ed- 
monton to  meet  his  friend,  His  Excellency  Count 
Andreas  Szeptickyi,  primate  of  the  Ruthenian  Cath- 
olics, who  was  then  touring  the  Ruthenian  missions 
in  the  west. 

On  November  9th  the  Laeombe  Home  was  offi- 
cially opened  at  Midnapore  by  Bishop  Legal.  It 
was  not  for  nothing  that  the  failing  forces  of  the  old 
man  had  been  rallied:  that  a master-brain  and  a 
master-hand  had  laid  his  world  again  under  tribute. 
Because  of  it  this  last  beneficent  dream  of  Father 
Laeombe  had  been  realized. 

But  the  Home  was  practically  without  revenue, 
and  his  poor  could  not  live  on  his  sympathy  alone. 
The  old  man  had  to  bestir  himself  again.  He  ex- 
plained his  needs  to  his  friend,  Mr.  Burns,  and  the 
institution  was  thereafter  bounteously  supplied  with 
good  meat. 

He  went  to  St.  Albert  and  commandeered  from  the 
bishop’s  farm  a carload  of  potatoes.  He  descended 
on  Lethbridge  and  returned  with  a couple  of  carloads 
of  coal  from  a friend’s  colleries.  From  another  source 
came  the  lordly  gift  of  lumber  to  erect  large  outbuild- 
ings, and  two  railways  conspired  with  the  generous 
donors  in  transporting  these  gifts.  The  officials  were 
not  afraid  of  creating  a dangerous  precedent:  there 
could  never  be  another  Pere  Laeombe  nor  such  an- 
other irresistible  beggar  in  the  cause  of  humanity. 

Before  six  months  had  passed  over  two-score  of 
persons  were  gathered  there  under  the  mantle  of  his 


1907 


FATHER  LACOMBE 


457 


charity  and  be  was  dwelling  in  the  Home  with  them. 
He  is  now  content.  His  feet  no  longer  bum  to  go 
on  long  journeys;  but  incessantly  active  still  he 
wanders  about  his  habitation  and  its  precincts— 
searching  among  his  new  proteges  for  a cause  in 
which  he  may  benevolently  meddle. 

It  is  here,  he  says,  with  the  poor  of  Alberta — 
with  his  poor — that  he  shall  close  his  eyes  in  the  last 
sleep. 

And  it  is  here,  in  this  House  of  Fatherly  Love, 
that  the  tangled  trails  of  the  west,  which  beckoned 
to  the  stripling  in  1849,  meet  and  find  their  end. 


THE  EXIT 


“The  true  missionary  is  the  finest  soldier  now  left 
in  the  world” — the  late  General  Butler  avowed  in  his 
sketch  of  F ather  Lacombe  and  his  confreres. 

Assuredly  no  soldier  travelled  with  lighter  knap- 
sack than  this  missionary  of  the  plains:  none  waged 
more  earnest  battles.  Few  have  left  such  evidences 
of  their  passing. 

In  the  late  twilight  of  a life  that  has  been  Homeric 
he  lives  still — with  his  heart  in  the  Past:  dominant 
and  picturesque,  as  a figure  standing  out  from  an- 
other age  than  ours. 

But  the  trail  he  walks  has  dipped  into  the  Vale 
of  Sunset.  Some  day  it  will  mount  suddenly  to  the 
summit  of  the  Long  Divide.  . . . Beyond  that 

the  Dawn  lies ! 

As  his  dear  old  form  moves  down  the  trail  into 
the  deepening  shadows,  with  the  voices  of  another 
world  faintly  audible  before  him  and  around  him,  he 
halts  at  many  a stopping-place  for  a backward  look 
at  the  friends  and  the  west  he  loves  so  truly. 

And  then  softly  as  the  gathering  shadows — warmly 
as  the  sunshine  of  his  beloved  Alberta — his  benedic- 
tion falls  serenely  upon  us — 

“Good-bye.  God  bless  you!” 

458 


INDEX 


A 

Abbott,  Sir  John,  330. 

Aberdeen,  Lord,  325,  350,  371, 
374,  405. 

Aberdeen,  Lady,  325,  350,  405. 
Alexandria,  332. 

Alexis,  “ the  famous,”  becomes 
guide  of  Father  Lacombe,  50, 
98,  108,  113,  141,  146,  195,  263; 
death  of,  264. 

Algonquin,  44. 

Andre,  Father,  116,  127,  161,  163, 
184. 

Angus,  R.  B.,  252,  275. 

Anvers,  398. 

Athabasca,  River,  168,  181,  364, 
376. 

Athabasca  Lake,  384. 

Athabasca  Landing,  379. 

Austria,  396. 

Autonomy  Bill,  435. 

Autun,  218. 

Avoca,  Vale  of,  129. 

B 

Baker,  I.  G.,  and  Company,  170, 
263. 

Baltimore,  316. 

Banff,  318. 

Bannock,  105. 

Bassano,  Comte  de,  216,  404. 
Battleford,  259,  285,  286. 

Battle,  River,  196. 

Baudin,  Father,  228. 

Bear  Hills,  304. 

Beaver  district,  H.  B.  C.,  47,  259. 
Beaver  River,  205. 

Beaver  Hills,  104. 

Beaver  Indians,  376. 

Beaumont,  430. 

Bedson,  Col.,  308. 


Belcourt,  Rev.  George,  visits  Mon- 
treal, 9;  in  Pembina  mission,  21. 

Belgium,  376,  396. 

Belly  River,  195,  268. 

Benton,  Fort,  168,  170,  194. 

Berthier,  37. 

Bie,  Abb£  de,  375. 

Big  Bear,  Chief,  295,  308. 

Big  House,  the,  43,  47. 

Bitter-root  Valley,  105. 

Blackfeet,  the — trading  at  Ed- 
monton, 59-61;  epidemic  in 
camps  of,  70-72;  call  for  Fa- 
ther Lacombe,  80,  89;  threaten 
Edmonton  House,  101,  105,  115, 
176;  revenge-party  formed,  178; 
dying  with  smallpox,  185;  star- 
vation among,  242;  downfall  be- 
gins, 266. 

Blackfeet  chieftains  tour  East, 
309. 

Blackfoot  Crossing,  268,  297,  299, 
301. 

Blais,  Father,  318. 

Blanchet,  Father,  61,  314. 

Blanchet,  Rev.  Father,  183,  449. 

Bloods,  the,  59,  195,  264,  265,  302, 
330. 

Boer  War,  the,  397. 

Bornheim,  376. 

Bourgine,  Father,  183. 

Bourgeau,  M.,  botanist,  74. 

Bourassa,  Father,  39,  46,  64. 

Bourget,  Bishop,  8,  16,  156. 

Bow  River,  107,  200,  262,  277. 

Bowell,  Sir  Mackenzie,  355,  358, 
359. 

Brazeau,  the  interpreter,  101,  172. 

Brest,  218. 

Bridge,  first  in  Alberta  built  by 
Father  Lacombe,  87 ; at  Cal- 
gary, obtained  by  Father  La- 
combe, 355;  at  Edmonton,  also 


459 


460 


INDEX 


obtained  by  Father  Lacombe, 
355. 

British  North  America  Act,  338. 

British  possessions,  the,  171. 

British  Columbia,  203. 

Brittany,  219,  398. 

Bruchesi,  Archbishop,  438. 

Brussels,  398. 

Bruyere,  de  la,  M.,  413. 

Buffalo  Lake,  69. 

Buffalo,  hunt  of,  24-33;  disap- 
pearance of,  241;  value  of,  to 
Indians,  23-24. 

Burns,  P.,  425,  444,  455. 

Butler,  General  Sir  William,  191, 
457. 

C 

Caer,  Father,  89. 

Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  ap- 
proaches West,  246;  condition 
of  early  navvies  of,  247-248; 
building  of,  over  the  prairies, 
271. 

Calgary,  Fort,  262. 

Calgary,  263,  279,  284,  291,  297, 
332. 

Car  of  Israel,  333. 

Cariboo,  323. 

Carlton,  Fort,  131-132. 

Caron,  Sir  Adolphe,  328. 

Cases,  M.  de,  318. 

Catholic  Missionary  Congress,  first 
in  New  World,  446. 

Caughnawaga,  311. 

Champs  de  Mars,  311. 

Chasse  Qalerie,  legend  of,  1-4. 

Chicago,  446. 

Chief  Mountain,  170. 

Chilcoten,  323. 

Chipewyans,  the,  376,  384. 

Chipewyan,  Fort,  48,  384-386. 

Cholera  in  Montreal,  12. 

Christie,  Chief  Factor  William, 
93;  improves  Fort  Edmonton, 
98,  178. 

Claude,  Father,  290. 

Clover,  Tom,  43. 

Clovis,  2. 

Cold  Lake,  265. 


Colonization  work  in  west,  228- 
232. 

Cologne,  398. 

Columbia  River,  313. 

Commons,  House  of,  378,  382. 

Confederation  Act,  336. 

Conservative  Government,  defeat 
of,  in  1896,  370. 

Cornellier,  Father,  428. 

Coureurs  de  bois,  3. 

Cranbrook,  425. 

Crees,  59,  60,  62;  missiqn  for,  61; 
encounter  with  pagan  Crees,  97= 
98,  100,  105,  109,  138,  159;  dying 
with  smallpox,  185;  whiskey 
trade  demoralises,  194;  starving, 
243;  degenerating,  261. 

Cree-Assinaboines,  176. 

Cretin,  Father,  17. 

Crosse,  lie  a la,  62,  96,  332. 

Crowfoot,  Chief,  119,  296,  301, 
306,  323. 

Crow’s  Nest  Pass,  336. 

Crozier,  Major,  295. 

Cumberland  House,  40. 

Cypress  Mountains,  279. 

D 

Dallas,  Governor,  visits  Edmon- 
ton House,  92. 

Daly,  Hon.  T.  Mayne,  328,  343, 
355. 

Datur-Omnibus,  the,  391. 

Davin,  Nicholas  Flood,  378. 

Demers,  Father,  61,  314. 

Denny,  Captain,  300,  302. 

Devil’s  Lake,  75. 

Dewdney,  Hon.  Edgar,  274,  286, 
300,  328. 

Diamond  Jubilee  of  Father  La- 
combe,  448. 

Dictionary,  Cree,  191,  213. 

Dontenwill,  Bishop,  390. 

Dorion,  Sir  Aim6,  226. 

Doucet,  Father,  183,  264,  279,  282, 
290,  323,  449. 

Douglas,  323. 

Dover,  217. 

Drexel,  Mother  Katherine,  317. 

Dubuque,  17. 


INDEX 


461 


Duck  Lake,  295. 

Duhamel  dit  Sans-Fa^on,  7. 
Dumont,  Gabriel,  292. 
Dumoulin,  Father,  22,  319. 
Dunbow,  285. 

Dunvegan,  Fort,  66,  181,  383. 
Durieu,  Bishop,  340. 
Duvernay,  Ludger,  261. 


E 

Ecumenical  Council,  154. 

Edmonton,  Fort,  established,  47 ; 
description  of,  46-48;  arrival  of 
Father  Lacombe  at,  44;  Indian 
trading  at,  59-61,  99-101 ; Christ- 
mas at  Fort  Edmonton,  124; 
threatened  by  Blackfeet,  178;  a 
new  Edmonton,  259,  333 ; rail- 
way connection,  348. 

Education  Act,  England,  369. 

Emard,  Bishop,  345. 

Emperor  Francis  Joseph,  401-404, 
433. 

Empire,  The  Toronto,  336. 

Ermine-Skin,  Chief,  187,  302,  304. 

F 

Fab  re,  Edouard  (Archbishop),  8, 
313,  336. 

Fabre,  Monsignor,  127. 

Fafard,  Father,  229. 

Falher,  Rev.  Father,  388,  389. 

Faraud,  Bishop,  131,  181,  219. 

Fiftieth  anniversary  of  ordination 
of  Father  Lacombe,  379. 

Fitzgerald,  Inspector,  R.N.W.M.  P., 
379. 

Fillion,  Father,  229. 

Foisy,  Father,  290. 

Forets,  the,  393. 

Forget,  Hon.  Rudolphe,  418. 

Fort  Benton,  168,  170,  194. 

Fort  Calgary,  262. 

Fort  Carlton,  131,  132. 

Fort  Chipweyan,  48,  384,  386. 

Fort  Dunvegan,  66,  181,  383. 

Fort  Edmonton,  44,  46,  47,  59, 
101,  124,  178. 


Fort  McMurray,  S87. 

Fort  Pitt,  63,  131,  259. 

Fort  Saskatchewan,  388. 

Fort  Snelling,  19. 

Fort  Vermilion,  384. 

Foster,  Hon.  G.  E.,  385. 

Fourmond,  Father,  264. 

Franchere,  203. 

Frain,  Father,  73,  245. 

Francis  Joseph,  Emperor,  401-404, 
433. 

France,  137,  193,  214,  244,  396, 
428. 

Franco-Prussian  War,  193. 

Frankfort,  433. 

Franklin,  Sir  John,  386. 

Frank,  slide  of  Mount,  425. 

Fraser  River,  323. 

Fraser,  Colin,  51. 

Free  Press,  Manitoba,  232. 

Freighting,  first,  by  carts  from 
Red  River  to  Edmonton,  88 ; 
first  brigade  of  H.  B.  C.  carts 
to  Edmonton,  137. 

Frog  Lake,  295,  304. 

G 

Gagnon,  Abbe,  37. 

Galt,  Sir  Alex.,  268,  285. 

Garry,  Fort,  208. 

Gaste,  Father,  163. 

Germany,  396. 

Gibbons,  James,  128. 

Gleiehen,  275,  301. 

Golowkowski,  Premier,  399. 

Grahame,  Steamship,  387. 

Grandin,  Rev.  Father,  439. 

Grandin,  Vital,  Bishop  of  St.  Al- 
bert, arrives  in  West,  64;  meets 
Father  Lacombe,  131;  enters  St. 
Albert  as  Bishop,  163;  sends 
Father  Lacombe  to  East,  204; 
founder  of  Indian  Schools,  204; 
warns  Ottawa  Government  of 
rebellion  impending,  294-295 ; 
appoints  a coadjutor,  372;  toast 
to  Father  Lacombe,  391-393;  ill- 
ness and  death,  412-417. 

Great  Divide,  3. 

Great  Slave  Lake,  416. 


468 


INDEX 


Greek  Catholic,  395. 

Greenway  Administration,  337. 

Grey,  Lord,  444. 

Grey  Nuns,  to  Mackenzie,  137;  to 
Lac  Ste.  Anne,  77;  to  St.  Al- 
bert, 89;  to  Dunbow,  289. 

Groat,  Malcolm,  100,  178. 

Grollier,  Father,  40. 

Grouard,  Bishop,  318,  379,  386. 

H 

Hamilton,  86. 

Hapsburg,  House  of,  403. 

Harriot,  John,  44. 

Hardisty,  Richard,  94;  befriends 
Father  Lacombe,  123. 

Harnois,  Leon,  171,  260. 

Haultain,  Hon.  Mr.,  339,  345. 

Haultain  Administration,  339. 

Healeys,  the,  170,  171. 

Hebert,  Louis,  283. 

Hector,  Sir  James,  73,  74. 

Helena,  Montana,  332. 

Hill,  James,  231,  426. 

Hermitage,  326,  334,  341,  371,  372. 

Hermitage  of  St.  Michel,  340. 

Hobbema,  348,  393. 

Hohenlohe,  Count  Hermann  von, 
275. 

Hohenlohe,  Cardinal  von,  276. 

Hospital  for  Indians,  324. 

Horse-stealing,  277,  279. 

House-tent,  143;  midnight  mass 
in,  152. 

Hudson  Bay  Company,  40;  boat- 
men of,  40-42;  established  at 
Fort  Edmonton,  47 ; attitude  to- 
ward missionaries,  56-57 ; atti- 
tude toward  unfortunate  Indi- 
ans, 58. 

Hunfeld,  398. 

I 

Idaho,  105. 

Immigration,  inflow  of  European, 
395. 

Indian  Industrial  School,  estab- 
lishment of,  284,  289;  need  of 
improvement,  445. 


Indian  treaty  No.  8,  commission 
for,  376-377;  making  of,  376-388. 

Ireland,  Archbishop,  407,  426. 

Iroquois,  64,  311. 

Irvine,  Major,  N.W.M.P.,  203. 

Isbister,  James,  292. 

Italy,  396. 

J 

Jackson,  Henry,  293. 

Jasper  House,  66. 

Jaxon,  Honors,  293. 

Jerusalem,  431. 

Jesuits,  Montana,  171. 

Jesuit  Estates  Act,  337. 

Journal,  Le,  362. 

K 

Kaiser,  170. 

Kamloops,  346. 

Kane,  Paul,  126. 

Kenooshayo,  381. 

Kenrick,  Archbishop,  173. 

Kentucky,  103. 

Kicking  Horse  Pass,  270,  313. 

Kipp,  Joe,  170,  328. 

Kiyiwin,  Abraham,  109. 

Klondyke,  movement  to,  376. 

Kootenay,  105,  347. 

L 

Lacombe,  Father — nativity,  5;  par- 
entage, 5-6;  at  college,  8;  called 
to  Montreal,  8;  decides  to  be  a 
missionary,  10;  ordination,  11; 
departs  for  West,  16;  chaplain 
to  Metis  Hunt,  24;  returns  to 
Montreal,  37 ; again  to  Western 
missions,  38;  consents  to  go  to 
Fort  Edmonton,  40;  first  jour- 
ney to  Peace  River,  64;  enters 
Oblate  Order,  66;  first  call  to 
Blackfeet,  68;  becomes  mission- 
ary Free-lance  of  plains,  106; 
founds  St.  Paul  de  Cris,  111; 
witnesses  Cree-Blackfeet  battle, 
116;  starves  on  the  winter  trail, 
142;  coup  d’ttat  in  Black  foot 


INDEX 


463 


camp,  157 ; prevents  Blackfoot 
attack,  161;  voyage  to  St.  Louis 
and  Montreal,  169;  succors  the 
wounded  Blackfeet,  176;  devo- 
tion during  smallpox  epidemic, 
182-186;  receives  Sweet-Grass  as 
Christian,  190;  writes  Cree  dic- 
tionary and  sermons,  191;  in- 
vents picture-Catechism,  201 ; 
given  a mission  concerning 
schools,  204;  sails  for  France, 
214;  takes  up  colonization  work, 
228;  parochial  work  in  Winni- 
peg, 228;  pleads  Indian  cause  at 
Ottawa,  244;  voyage  to  Europe, 
delegate  to  General  Chapter, 
244;  becomes  chaplain  of  first 
trans-continental,  247 ; returns 
to  Far  West  missions,  259;  aids 
in  keeping  peace  during  Rebel- 
lion, 296-305;  begs  in  East  for 
missions,  315;  secures  first  In- 
dian hospital,  330;  engages  in 
School  Question,  336-340 ; con- 
ducts School-Question  campaign 
for  Archbishop  Tach6,  344,  353, 
358,  370;  originates  plan  of 

Metis  colony,  350;  illness,  373; 
adviser  to  Indian  Treaty  Com- 
mission, 376-388;  attempts  his 
Memoirs,  393;  opens  last  cam- 
paign of  begging,  408;  retires 
to  Hermitage,  423;  voyage  to 
Palestine,  428-434;  relinquishes 
enterprise  of  Metis  colony,  442; 
plans  a Home  for  aged  and 
orphans,  443. 

Lacombe,  Albert,  Sr.,  5. 

Lacombe,  Gaspard,  103,  128,  450. 

Lacombe,  Joseph,  6. 

Lacombe,  Mdme.  Agathe,  6,  174, 
269. 

Lacombe,  Christine,  176,  260. 

Lacombe  Home,  its  founder  begins 
to  plan,  443;  building  of,  454; 
opening  of,  455. 

Lac  la  Biche,  49,  62;  transporta- 
tion by,  168,  174,  181. 

Lac  Ste.  Anne,  established,  61 ; 
described  by  Lord  Southesk,  75, 
76. 


Lac  Rouge,  20. 

Ladder,  ( Echelle ),  of  Father  La- 
combe, 202. 

Lafleche,  Bishop,  318. 

Laird,  Hon.  David,  379,  380,  382. 

Langdon,  297. 

Langevin,  Archbishop,  351,  390,. 
428. 

Langevin,  Sir  Hector,  225,  226, 
295,  413. 

Lariviere,  Hon.  A.  C.,  351,  353. 

L’Assomption  College,  8. 

L’Assomption,  174,  269,  342. 

Laurier,  Sir  Wilfrid,  359;  corre- 
sponds with  Father  Lacombe  on 
school-question,  360-361,  363,  369, 
448. 

Lebret,  Rev.  Louis,  419,  420. 

Leduc,  Father,  arrives  in  West, 
137,  163,  183,  318,  439,  449. 

Ledochowski,  Cardinal,  398. 

Lefloch,  Father,  115. 

Legoff,  Rev.  Father,  163,  450. 

Legal,  Bishop,  267;  meets  Father 
Lacombe,  305,  318,  323,  328;  co- 
adjutor bishop  of  St.  Albert, 
372;  aids  Father  Lacombe,  411, 
450. 

Leopoli,  400. 

Lesser  Slave  Lake,  66,  181,  379s 
383. 

Lestanc,  Rev.  Father,  439,  450. 

Letaille,  M.,  214,  245. 

Lethbridge,  318. 

L’Heureux,  Jean,  243,  286,  310. 

Liege,  433. 

Lilloet,  323. 

Little  Pine,  100. 

Little  Slave  River,  66. 

Livingstone,  Sam,  128-129. 

Loisy,  Abbe,  430. 

London,  215,  272. 

Longue  Point  Asylum,  228. 

Lome,  Marquis  of,  255. 

Lorraine,  Bishop,  318. 

Loras,  Bishop,  17,  407. 

Louisville,  261. 

Lowell,  230. 

Luxembourg,  404. 

Luxton,  W.  F.,  332,  334e 


464 


INDEX 


M 

Macdonald,  Donald,  180. 

Macdonald,  Joseph,  100. 

MacDonnell,  Captain,  320. 

Macdonald,  Sir  John,  conference 
with  Tache,  225-226;  on  Indian 
Schools,  286;  quotes  Father  La- 
combe,  296,  298,  339. 

MacKenna,  J.  A.  J.,  379. 

Mackenzie,  Sir  Alex.,  386. 

Mackenzie,  Murdo,  124-125. 

Mackenzie  District,  137. 

Mackintosh,  Governor,  345. 

Macleod,  Fort,  264,  266. 

Macleod,  320,  335. 

Macleod,  Col.,  268,  274. 

MacLaine,  Flatboat,  99. 

MacPherson,  Sir  David,  281-282. 

McCarthy  ( Jimmy- from-Cork), 

128. 

McCarthy,  Dalton,  337. 

McDougall,  Rev.  George,  97,  182. 

McLoughlin,  Dr.  John,  129. 

McTavish,  Governor,  295. 

Maisonneuve,  le,  14. 

Manitoba,  88,  229. 

Manitoba  School  Question,  origin 
of,  337 ; early  struggle  in,  338, 
340;  Hierarchy’s  united  action, 
344-345;  progress  of,  353-354; 
closing  agitation  of,  358,  370; 
Memorial  on,  344-345;  Remedial 
Order,  354;  Remedial  Bill,  368; 
overthrows  Government,  370. 

Manning,  Archbishop,  216. 

Marchand,  Father,  295. 

Mardi  Gras,  1. 

Marseilles,  428. 

Marguerite,  the  Sarcee  captive, 
157. 

Massachusetts,  229-230. 

Matheson,  Jack,  174. 

Medicine  Hat,  327,  436. 

Melanges  Religieux,  12,  16. 

Mercier,  Canon,  10,  12. 

Metis,  20;  buffalo  hunts  of,  24-33; 
Golden  Age  of,  23,  24,  33;  Metis 
of  Fort  Pitt  and  Ste.  Anne,  63; 
groups  of  Metis  take  to  farm- 
ing, 80-84. 


Metis  Colony,  origin  of,  350,  353; 
grant  of  land  to,  356;  organi- 
zation of,  373;  financial  difficul- 
ties, 420;  fire  destroys  institu- 
tion, 434. 

Metternich,  Princess,  401. 

Metz,  218. 

Mill,  grist,  built  by  Father  La- 
combe,  90. 

Milton,  Lord,  visits  St.  Albert,  93. 

Minto,  Lady,  374. 

Minerve,  La,  261. 

Missouri,  168,  171. 

Monias,  25. 

Montana,  105,  328,  347. 

Montreal,  14,  37,  103,  202,  211. 

Moostoos,  Chief,  381. 

Morin,  Father,  357. 

Mormon  settlers,  328. 

Morrison,  Angus,  235;  execution 
of,  237. 

Moulin,  Rev.  Father,  163. 

Mountstephen,  Lord,  221,  222,  274, 
404. 

Mountains  of  Setting  Sun,  2. 

Mounted  Police,  established,  239, 
263;  factors  in  western  civiliza- 
tion, 270,  355. 

Munroe,  William  (Piskan),  268. 

Munich,  398. 

N 

Na  Batoche,  160. 

Nancy,  218-219. 

Natous,  Chief,  116,  121,  243. 

Nelson,  426. 

Neuf-Chateau,  404. 

New  Orleans,  168. 

New  Westminster,  407,  426. 

Nicolet,  335. 

Non-Conformists,  340,  369. 

Norway  House,  46,  103,  126. 

Nose  Hill,  142. 

O 

Oberammergau,  Canadian,  333. 

Oblates,  a new  order,  36,  38;  Fa- 
ther Lacombe  enters  Order,  66, 
193,  194;  Oblates’  uniform,  229; 


INDEX 


465 


factor  in  civilization  of  West, 
270. 

Oblates,  Annals  of,  168. 

Ohio,  103. 

O jib  way  ancestor  of  Father  La- 
combe,  7. 

Old  Bow  Fort,  179. 

Ontario,  103. 

Orafino,  105. 

Orelia,  Cardinal,  398. 

Oregon,  129,  272. 

Otaskawan,  348. 

Ottawa,  310. 

Ottawa,  Archbishop  of,  332. 
Ouimet,  Hon.  Mr.,  335. 

P 

Palliser  Expedition,  73. 

Papaskis,  187. 

Papineau,  26. 

Par6,  168. 

Par6,  Canon,  8. 

Paris,  217,  220,  245,  398. 

Paris  Exposition,  397. 

Parliament  Buildings,  1,  2. 
Passion  Play  by  Indians,  333. 
Patrie,  La,  435. 

Pawtucket,  317. 

Pays  d’en  Haut,  1,  6,  16,  35. 

Peace  River,  107,  376. 

Peace  River  Crossing,  383. 

Peace  River  Trail,  383. 

Pembina,  9,  17;  foundation  of,  22; 
arrival  of  Father  Lacombe  at, 
22. 

Pembroke,  332. 

Pemmican,  making  of,  32. 
Philadelphia,  315,  318. 
Picture-catechism,  201,  213-214. 
Piegans,  the,  59,  195,  265,  328,  393. 
Pike’s  Peak,  105. 

Pig’s  Eye,  18. 

Pile-o’-Bones,  259. 

Pincher  Creek,  325,  436. 

Pine  River  Pass,  203,  275. 

Pitt,  Fort,  the  Metis  of,  63,  131, 
259. 

Plattsburg,  228. 

Plenary  Council,  448. 

Point  Douglas,  239. 


Politics,  attitude  of  Father  La- 
combe on,  365-367,  447-448. 
Ponoka,  348. 

Pope  Pius  X,  432. 

Pope  Pius  IX,  154,  155,  193. 
Portage  la  Loche,  47. 

Portland,  217. 

Port  Arthur,  254. 

Poulin,  Father,  215,  218. 
Pound-Maker,  Chief,  295,  298,  305, 
308. 

Powers,  the,  120. 

Presse,  La,  359,  362,  363-364. 
Prince  Albert,  293,  294,  296,  332. 
Prince,  Monseigneur,  8. 

Princess  Beatrice,  375. 

Princess  Louise,  243. 

Propagation  of  the  Faith,  193. 
Pritchard,  John,  175. 

Privy  Council,  336-339. 

Providence,  317. 

Provinces  erected  from  Northwest 
Territories,  435. 

Provincial  Rights,  339. 

Pryzenyls,  400. 

Q 

Qu’Appelle,  259,  285,  286,  308. 
Quebec,  212. 

Quebec  Citadel,  311. 

Quebec  Tercentenary,  444. 

Queen  Victoria,  375. 

Quinn,  Agent,  295. 

R 

Rae,  Captain,  171. 

Rae,  Doctor,  visits  Father  La- 
combe, 102. 

Rampolla,  Cardinal,  398. 
Ready-made  farms  planned  in 
1883,  277. 

Rat  Portage,  207,  254,  275. 
Ravoux,  Father,  18,  407. 

Red  Crow,  309. 

Red  Deer  Crossing,  278-279. 

Red  River  Cart,  26,  87. 

Red  River,  great  flood  of,  30,  38, 
88,  103,  154,  208. 

Reed,  Hay  ter,  340. 


466 


INDEX 


Regina,  332. 

Remas,  Father,  62,  64,  72,  77,  290, 
349. 

Remedial  Ordinance,  354. 

Rideau  Hall,  309. 

Riel  rebellion  of  1885,  impending, 
291;  claims  of  Metis,  291. 

Riel,  Louis,  224;  political  aspira- 
tions, 226 ; hiding  in  Quebec, 
227 ; mental  unbalance,  227 ; re- 
turns from  Montana,  293;  takes 
leadership  of  Metis,  295;  sur- 
rendered, 305. 

Rivi&re  du  Loup,  285. 

Rimouski,  324. 

Rocky  Mountain  House,  104,  111, 
122,  174,  176,  191,  192. 

Rome,  244,  432. 

Ross,  James,  329,  375. 

Routhier,  Judge,  318. 

Rowand,  Chief  Factor,  character 
of,  40;  family  of,  44;  story  of, 
53-55 ; defied  by  Father  La- 
combe,  56;  Indian  name,  170. 

Rowand’s  Folly,  47. 

Royal,  Ex-Governor,  409. 

Royer,  Rev.  Father,  410. 

Rupert’s  Land,  162. 

Ruthenian  Settlers,  395;  Father 
Lacombe  interests  Austrian  Gov- 
ernment and  Rome  in,  399,  404, 
433;  missionaries  arrive  in  Can- 
ada for,  417. 

Ryan,  Thomas,  426. 

S 

Sarcee  brave,  shot  at  Edmonton 
House,  100. 

Sarcee  captive,  rescued  by  Father 
Lacombe,  139. 

Saskatchewan  River,  41,  55,  99; 
gold  found  on,  103;  Forks,  107; 
rafting  on,  111;  privations  of 
missionaries  in  valley  of,  186, 
194,  203. 

Satolli,  Cardinal,  398. 

Sault  Ste.  Marie,  7. 

Saulteaux,  the,  10;  plunder  brigade 
of  Father  Lacombe,  20,  22. 

Schillingfuerst,  276. 


Schultz,  Sir  John,  299. 

School,  first,  in  Alberta,  88. 

Scollen,  Father,  88,  191,  242,  303. 

Script  for  northern  Metis,  381- 

382. 

Sechelt,  323. 

Seghers,  Archbishop,  murder  of, 
314. 

Selkirk  Mountains,  313. 

Selkirk,  Lord,  asks  Quebec  for 
priests,  22,  39,  175. 

Shaughnessy,  Sir  Thomas,  426. 

Shah  of  Persia,  220. 

Silver  Bow,  171. 

Sifton,  Hon.  Clifford,  377,  378. 

Simpson,  Thomas,  386. 

Sinclair,  “Credo,”  116. 

Sixty-fifth  Regiment,  in  Riel  Re- 
bellion, 305. 

Sixtieth  anniversary  of  ordination 
of  Father  Lacombe,  448-451. 

Slavs,  395-396. 

Slide-Out  (whiskey  trading-post), 
266. 

Smallpox  epidemic,  182-186. 

Smeulders,  Monsignor,  375. 

Smith,  Donald,  231,  275. 

Smet,  Pere  de,  51,  67,  173. 

Snelling,  Fort,  19. 

Soullier,  Very  Rev.  Father,  346. 

Southesk,  Lord,  visits  Father  La- 
combe at  Ste.  Anne,  75;  writes 
of  Father  Lacombe,  75-76. 

Stand-Off,  Fort,  266. 

Stanislaus,  400. 

Stanley,  Lord,  visits  Alberta,  320. 

Stephen,  George,  272,  274. 

Stickeen,  323. 

Strathcona,  Lord,  275,  451,  454. 

Stephen,  George,  272,  274. 

Strasburg,  218. 

Sturgeon  River,  81,  92. 

Stuart’s  Lake,  323. 

St.  Albert,  establishment  of,  82- 
85;  episcopal  see  erected,  162; 
frontier  cathedral  at,  163;  early 
life  in,  164;  erected  a separate 
diocese,  204;  modernized,  260. 

St.  Boniface,  22,  38,  40,  87,  89, 
137,  208,  344. 

St.  Eugene,  426. 


INDEX 


467 


St.  Hyacinthe,  11,  335. 

St.  Louis,  171. 

St.  Mary’s,  333. 

St.  Paul,  mission  of  Abb6  Galtier, 
18,  104,  231,  234,  407,  426,  452. 

St.  Paul  de  Metis,  356. 

St.  Sulpice,  4,  5. 

Superior,  Lake,  352. 

Swan  Hills,  387. 

Sweet-Grass,  Chief,  130,  151,  153, 
187;  shadow  on,  188,  194. 

Sycannis,  323. 

T 

Tach£,  Alexandre  (Archbishop  of 
St.  Boniface) — meets  Father  La- 
combe,  37 ; first  visit  to  Edmon- 
ton, 62;  selects  site  of  St.  Al- 
bert, 82;  receives  the  pallium, 
208;  confers  with  Government 
on  Amnesty,  224;  sends  Father 
Lacombe  to  Europe,  244;  tours 
the  West,  290;  journeys  to  the 
Pacific,  313;  again  tours  the 
West,  332;  Memorial  on  School 
Question,  344-345;  death  oftf 
346. 

Tarte,  Hon.  Israel,  39*?. 

Taschereau,  Cardinal,  212. 

Therien,  Father,  351,  373,  408. 

Thibault,  Father,  38,  49,  62,  64, 
173. 

Thompson,  Sir  John,  307,  328,  346. 

Three  Bulls,  309,  322. 

Three  Ponds,  115;  battle  of,  116- 

122. 

Thunder  Bay,  255. 

Tissier,  Father,  181,  439,  449. 

Toronto,  355. 

Trail  of  Death,  387. 

Tupper,  Sir  Charles,  247,  355,  359. 

Turtle  Mountain,  27. 

Two  Medicine  River,  328. 

U 

University  of  Alberta,  88. 

University  of  Ottawa,  332. 

University  of  St.  Louis,  172,  173. 

University  of  Toronto,  293. 


V 

Valleyfield,  Bishop  of,  345. 
Vancouver,  313. 

Vandenburghe,  Rev.  Father,  in- 
spects Oblate  missions,  105. 

Van  Horne,  Sir  William,  272,  275, 
321,  342,  352. 

Van  Tighen,  Father,  316. 
Varennes,  Bishop  of,  219. 
Vegreville,  Rev.  Father,  163,  168. 
Verandrye,  de  la  Varennes,  270. 
Veuillot,  Louis,  164,  218. 

Viarmes,  396. 

Viau,  Abbe  de,  6,  10,  11. 

Vichy,  218,  221. 

Victoria,  B.  C.,  314. 

Victoria,  128,  182. 

Vienna,  399,  433. 

Virginia,  103. 

Voyageurs,  1,  3,  16,  40;  hardships 
of,  41,  127. 

W 

Wales,  Prince  of,  397. 

Wetaskiwin,  348. 

Whiskey  Fort,  266. 

White-Eagle,  sorcerer,  97. 

White  Fathers,  The,  431. 
Whoop-up,  Fort,  266. 

Whyte,  William,  355. 
Wikaskokiseyin,  110,  130. 

Wilkie,  John,  President  of  Metis 
Hunt,  25,  33. 

Winnipeg,  208. 

Witigo,  murder  of,  389. 

Witness,  Montreal,  364,  365. 
Wolverine  Point,  181. 

Woonsocket,  317. 

Y 

York-boats,  40. 

York  Factory,  47. 

Young,  Harrison,  178* 

Yukon,  314. 

Z 

Zeptickyi,  Archbishop,  400,  455, 
Zichy,  Countess,  401. 

Zoldach,  Rev.  Father,  417. 
Zouaves,  219. 


& 


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